Poor Princess
by 14Checker
Summary: Princess's father disowns her and remarries. Now Princess is faced with a whole new territory that she barely acknowledged in her former glory: Poverty. R&R please. I don't own PPG.
1. The Announcement

**From Chex:** I've currently got a lot of ideas for new stories, but since this is the only one that doesn't include Bell, (and therefore require me to finish "Trust Me" first) I'm starting this idea before it fades. All about Princess. I hope you enjoy.

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"Did you want something, Daddy?" The red-headed heiress asked loudly, clearly irritated. Her voice echoed off the walls ornated with gold-framed portraits. The heels of her solid gold pumps _Click-clacked_ as she descended the spiral staircase. A seemingly endless line of servants bowed as she past. Maids on the left. Butlers on the right. All lining the lengthy corridor that led to the parlor.

Cornelius Morbucks sat in his high-backed cushioned bergere chair facing the fireplace. His arms folded patiently in front of him, he tapped his large ringed finger against his wrist. His face completely devoid of any emotion. Behind him he could hear his daughter enter the room, speaking as if he had heard every word she had said since she was upstairs. Like she was finishing some previous conversation they'd had.

"...and if this is about the Lamborghini than that _totally_ wasn't my fault! What kind of idiot puts a fire hydrant in the middle of the sidewalk anyway?!"

He decided to let her get out whatever it was she was ranting about. She had been called down several minutes prior to this. He hadn't specified what he needed to speak to her about. That conversation was better done face-to-face. It was rare that Princess was home on a Saturday like this and he had put off telling her long enough. If there was ever a time to tell her what he had to tell her, it was now.

"So what did you want, Daddy? I'm busy, ya know. I don't have all day. And I want to go to _Diamonique_, like, now. So can I have some money?"

The last question was predictable, but also convenient. If there was ever a way to introduce the subject, it would be with something his daughter was familiar with. Money.

Cornelius looked at his daughter. She stood clutching a small gold purse. She had on a purple sequined halter top and a skirt that put the _mini_ in miniskirt. She was decorated with various gold bracelets, rings, earrings. Anywhere that jewelry was designed to go, it was displayed on her. Her hand was held out toward him expectantly. He looked at it and sighed. In all the years he'd known her, she had never changed. Although she hadn't always dressed so trashy. She had always had a love, even as a toddler, for flashy expensive things. The more expensive the better. Diamonds had always been her favorite gemstone, gold her favorite element. Money was always her top priority. He could imagine where she got that from.

Until only six weeks ago, he had been the same way. Living for the finer things. Loving nothing, including his own daughter, more than his money. But that had all changed when he met Angeline Foyler. After Princess's mother passed away, he had given up any hope of ever loving a woman again. He had redirected his love for his wife onto Princess. But in the wrong way. He had spoiled her, thus ruining her. She was and had always been a selfish, bratty child. She had never appreciated what she had. Never thanked anyone for anything. For some reason, despite the fact that she'd done nothing to earn it, she seemed to feel like she was entitled to the life she had. Maybe if her mother had been there things would've been different. But there was nothing he could do about that. The damage was done. At this point he was convinced there was nothing he could do that would change his daughter's ways. And he was sure that if his dear, sweet Diane had lived she would be every bit as disappointed in their daughter as he was now.

But Angeline...she was a dream come true. The moment he had seen her walking down mainstreet from the town car, the old flame of love rekindled itself in him. He could remember exactly what she looked like. Dressed in a simple pale pink dress and cream sweater, her lovely blonde hair pulled into a bun. A few stray strands dangled just below her ear. She held a large loaf of French bread in her arms, walking with a look of inner peace. For the second time in his life, he cared about something other than money. Someone. Angeline Foyler. At that exact moment, he had his driver stop in the middle of the road, he got out, and he approached her. It had all gone uphill from there.

She was the kindest, sweetest woman he'd ever met. Angeline, or Angel, as he liked to call her, worked in a nursing home on the south side of town. And when she wasn't aiding the elderly, she was volunteering at some shelter, or assisting in some fundraiser. Since he had met her, over $75,000 of what would normally be spent gambling or investing in stocks, went to charity. He found it astonishing that such a wonderful creature was unmarried. But that would soon change.

In fact, that's part of what he needed to tell his daughter.

"Perhaps you should have a seat." He snapped his fingers and a servant quickly placed a chair behind Princess. She fell into it with a loud, exasperated sigh and dismissed him. She tapped her foot impatiently against the Persian rug and scowled at him. It was rare that she was left alone in a room with her father. That usually meant he was reserving the time specifically for her. It made her slightly nervous, but she wouldn't let that show. She was far too good for that.

"_What is it, Daddy?_"

"You're well aware that I've been seeing Ms. Angeline Foyler."

"Duh. So what?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, I wanted to inform you that I proposed to her. And she said yes. We're getting married."

Princess stared at him stupefied. Her face was the picture of disbelief. She sat up straight and peered at him. "Are you _kidding_ me? You're kidding, right? You've only been dating for a few weeks! I've never even **met** her!"

And, of course, there was a reason for that.

Like most kind, caring, self-less women, Angeline loved children. She had a soft spot for them. Whenever they happened to see a small child, which wasn't rare considering the places she liked to go, she would greet them with a smile with more tenderness then Cornelius imagined they got from their own mothers. Angeline's love for children was, surprisingly enough, one of the many things he loved about her.

Teenagers, however, were another matter. Princess was no small sweet child. She had no innocence. No blatant curiosity. None of the things Angeline loved about children. And the thought of introducing a saint like her to an obnoxious brat like his daughter...well, it embarrassed him to no end. If his wonderful Angeline were to find out he was responsible for raising someone so...so...shockingly atrocious...

Yes, Cornelius Morbucks was ashamed of his own daughter. So much so that he hadn't even mentioned her existence to his sweetheart. The woman he would soon wed. But Angeline had made him happier in the six weeks that they'd known each other than Princess had in her sixteen years of life on the planet.

So the matter remained unresolved. If he were to marry his Angeline, surely she would meet, speak with, or get a mere glance at his daughter. Or at least talk to enough people to figure out he had one. No, of course there was no way around it.

Unless...

"Here." He handed her a suitcase that had been concealed at his side. Princess was used to dealing with cold hard cash. He doubted she even knew how to cash a check.

Princess immediately snatched it up. Opening it, she began flipping through the stacks of hundred dollar bills. It was _alot_ more than she usually got but she wasn't about to say anything in case he wasn't aware that he had given her too much. "'Bout time. So what does _she_ have to do with anything?"

"Do you know how much I gave you or what it's for?"

"Does it matter? It's more enough for _Diamonique_."

He sighed, running a hand through his graying black hair. "Princess, Anna," he started, calling her by her real first name.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. "You know I hate that!"

He ignored her. "Look, I don't know how else to say this. There's $500,000 in that case. That's enough to take care of you for a while if you know what to do with it."

"Take care of me?"

"I'm marrying Angeline. I haven't told her about you and, frankly, I don't want to. You're an embarrassment. You're unworthy of the name Morbucks. Over the past couple of weeks I've spoken to my attorney and some legal advisers. I've gotten court consent to sever our ties. As of now, I'm not legally your father."

She gaped at him, her previously narrowed eyes widening perceptively. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

"I said I've--"

"_You're disowning me_?!"

"The legal term is 'emancipating'--"

Her green eyes flashed with rage and she shook her head wildly, her bright red curls whipping around her. Her face flushed in anger and her body shook with violent convulsions. Her knuckles whitened around the leather handle of the suitcase. For a moment, she was beyond words. What could anyone really say when their parents had just told them they were an embarrassment and were no longer of member of the family? How does anyone respond to that?

"Y-You can't do this to me! I'm only 16! You can't throw me out!"

"Actually, I can," her father stated calmly and professionally. "The law only requires that their be guardian and/or court consent, which there is, obviously. As well as you being able to support yourself financially. The money I gave you is--"

"KEEP IT!!" She threw the suitcase at him and he fumbled to catch it before it hit it's intended target. "You bastard! I HATE YOU!! I hate you and this stupid place! You can't treat me this way! All for that worthless bitch! I hope you'll be happy once she bleeds you dry!"

Her father sat silently through her rant, his face a mask of complete and utter indifference. He'd been expecting this, of course. It had been a while since Princess had reduced herself to a tantrum, but this put all others to shame. She cursed, spit, and began to tear the room apart. Hurling priceless vases and antiques everywhere. She sent anything she could manage to lift flying from one side of the room to the other. All the while screaming obscenities.

Cornelius Morbucks watched morbidly. Merely calculating the cost of the damages in his head while his daughter screamed her heart out.

Once she was satisfied with the utter mess she had made, she turned to him, looking slightly deranged; her hair and clothes disheveled, sweat trickling down her face and neck, her eyes wild with unrestricted fury.

"You heartless, idiotic, jackass! You never loved me! I never mattered! And now you're trying to get rid of me! Well, guess what! I don't need you! I don't need anyone! I'm Princess! I can do whatever I damn well please with my life and I don't need you or you lousy pocket change either!

Her father was as calm as ever. "I highly advise that you take the money. And I'm giving you two days to get your stuff together--"

"Don't bother! I'm leaving! NOW!"

With that final statement said she stormed her way out of the parlor and out of his life. Shoving a defenseless maid to the side and growling foul language and threats at the servants who were too near her being.

Cornelius sighed a tired sigh. That had gone about as well as expected. One of his favorite parlors was destroyed, and the servants were cowering and fearing for their lives now, but he had accomplished his task.

He looked at the suitcase in his hand that held half a million dollars. The suitcase his daughter had thrown back at him in her fit of maniacal rage. The suitcase she had refused.

The law only required that he give her enough to financially sustain herself, which he did. What she did with the money, whether she used it sparingly and wisely, or she returned it out of pure hatred, was none of his concern.

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**From Chex:** I'm very...self-conscious about this chapter. I want this story to seem realistic and I'm not sure how well I played that. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.


	2. The Meltdown

**From Chex:** I'm terribly sorry for the delay in updating. That's really all I can say. Of course there's reason, but I won't waste time giving excuses. So please enjoy the chapter.

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"That'll be $2537.87, ma'am." The ding of the register was music to the ears of the red-haired former heiress. After making her dramatic exit off of Morbucks property, her stiletto-heeled feet had led her to the only familiar place of solace that could possibly placate her at a time like this.

The mall.

Only the sound of registers ringing up her endless purchases could comfort her now. She momentarily found calm in the idea of adding to her endless list of material possessions. For as long as she had known, they had been her only consolation in times of distress. Distress usually being hair-emergencies, a tear in the expensive fabric of some article of clothing, or, in her early years, rejection from the Powerpuffs.

Old habits had led her to _Diamonique_, her current favorite store. She was a frequent customer, seeing as few others could afford to shop there. They sold everything from golden hair accessories to rhinestone room decor. A single hair-clip never cost less than a hundred bucks and the word 'Sale' didn't exist in the vicinity of the store. Princess spent more in that store in a matter of a week than most people made in a year.

Princess dug around briefly in the small space of her gold clutch and pulled out a platinum credit card. She flung it at the clerk who fumbled to catch it. She tapped her hot pink nails against the counter, looking at the bags she had accumulated. Upon her arrival at the store, she had still been in somewhat of a frenzy, grabbing blindly at anything that caught her eye, not always bothering to check if it was in her size or even _what_ it was, and generally flinging clothes everywhere.

After a minute, her gaze turned towards the clerk. A petite girl in glasses who was repeatedly swiping the card and looking pensive. "What's taking so long?" Princess snapped. The girl jumped, dropping the card and then bending down to retrieve it. Princess rolled her eyes impatiently. "Hurry it up! God, what the hell are you getting paid for? You're so useless."

The girl burned red, shamefully. "I-I'm s-s-sorry, but...well, the thing is, um..."

"Spit it out! I haven't got all day. _Some_ people have lives to get back to. Not that _you'd_ know anything about that," she sneered, flipping her curls and glaring hard at the girl. Taking obvious pleasure in watching her squirm.

"I-I'm sorry. Y-You're card isn't going through. Sorry," she added again, as though she were somehow to blame for this.

"_What_?! What do you mean it's not going through?!" Princess shrieked, her voice going up an octave. Her eyes flashed dangerously and in that instant she once again flooded with fury. "Move you idiot! You probably did something wrong." Grabbing the clerk by the sleeve of her polo shirt, Princess shoved her aside violently and stepped behind the register as she fled.

Snatching up the card, she swiped it. Instantly the breath flew out of her in one loud gasp. She growled and swiped it again. And again. And again. Each time the same words appearing on the tiny screen before her.

**Invalid.**

_He...He...HE CANCELED MY CREDIT CARD!!_ Her eyes widened and she began to shake violently, an unpredictable mix of fear and fury. She pulled out her wallet, tossing every credit card she had (twelve) onto the counter. Each read the same. Invalid. Invalid. Invalid. Invalid.

"That bastard! He can't do this to me!" She screamed as she tossed the last useless card over her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Miss." A bony, but firm hand laid itself on her shoulder. She whirled around to face a tall, rib-thin woman in a serious-looking blue suit. Her eyes were a pale grey and narrowed at Princess, unperturbed by whatever fit she appeared to be having. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Irrational, Princess blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "He canceled my card!"

"Yes, well," the woman drawled, clearly unimpressed with this response. "I understand that you've been harassing my employees." Behind her, the flustered clerk girl peeked out.

"What? But I--"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"WHAT?! D-Do you know who I am?!" Princess jabbed a finger at herself. "I'm Princess! You can't throw me out! Do you know who my da--..." The words remained unsaid on her lips.

The woman rose a thin brow, unfazed by her outburst. "Am I going to have to call security?"

"S-She's crazy, ma'am. I told you she was." The small girl stared at her fearfully.

Princess froze. _Crazy_? She was making a spectacle of herself. Her father's news had completely unhinged her and now she was making a complete and utter fool of herself.

In her younger years, she'd grudgingly admit, she'd been prone to fits and temper tantrums. But she had outgrown them. Occasionally, yes, she'd get upset, scream and shout. But always in the privacy of her own home with only her servants as witnesses. It had been _years_ since she'd had a real fit like this. And in public! What had she been thinking?

Without another word, she stalked out of the store, urging herself to maintain control. To appear normal. Because if there was anything, _anything_ at _all_ that she would fight to protect more than her lifestyle, it was her reputation.

_That bastard! That stupid, stupid bastard! Kicked me out, canceled my cards, who the hell does he think he is?! He can't do this to me! He just can't!_ Muttering angrily to herself, she stormed blindly around the mall, her eyes firmly locked and glaring at some point in the distance. The constant chatter of people around her faded to a distant hum, easily ignored.

"Princess! Hey, Princess!" Her head snapped around quickly, searching for the source of the cry.

Before she even identified her, a brightly dressed girl came running up to her. She had on a hot pink tank top and jean miniskirt. Her hair was a glossy brown and flowed in straight waves past her shoulders. Slightly taller, she smiled down at Princess as though the world itself revolved around her.

"Oh. Hi, Melissa," Princess responded noncommittally, barely batting an eyelash. She continued walking and Melissa, oblivious to her attitude, fell in step beside her.

"Omigod, I can't believe you're here! I totally text you, like, an hour ago. What happened?"

Princess merely shrugged. The comment didn't bother in the least since, even though it wasn't intentional this time, she sometimes took breaks from her cell phone and IM. She liked to leave her 'friends' with the impression that she had better things to do than return their calls and texts, even when it wasn't true.

Melissa, clearly disappointed, tried to appear equally nonchalant. "Oh, well. No big deal." Princess rolled her eyes, silently sneering, _Chyea, right. You were probably glued to the phone for the past hour._ "Wanna head to _Diamonique_? I heard they got new diamond cell phone charms!"

_Like you can afford them._ "Oh, _please_! That store is so last week. Catch up, Melissa." She didn't bother to hide the sting in her voice. She stormed ahead, making Melissa, who refused to give up, rush to keep up. Normally, this would've amused her, watching her friend trip all over herself just to please her. But she was too far gone to care. The indifference in her voice was clear as day.

Melissa, like everyone else, ignored it for her own sake. Pretending not to be hurt by it. "Oh, yeah. You're totally right."

_Aren't I always?_

"So did you see what that loser Robin was wearing Friday?"

And just like that, they slipped in to what was commonly referred to as their Ridicule Routine. Gossiping, naturally, was one of her favorite activities, second only to shopping. And it was clearly Melissa's way of trying to save face, protecting herself by tearing down others. A technique so familiar to Princess she could predict a decent gossip session coming before the first question had even left her mouth.

"That color _so_ didn't work for her."

"Like any color would."

"It'd look great on you, though."

"I know."

Melissa flipped her hair over her shoulder, feeling comfortable now that she appeared to be on solid ground with Princess. "So are you gonna come tonight?"

"To what?"

The brunette blushed, trying to hide her disappointment. "My sleepover. Remember? You said you'd try to squeeze it into your schedule last week. All the girls are gonna be there. It starts at eight. You should totally come. If you're not too busy, I mean."

Princess blinked, recognition slowly dawning on her face, quickly replaced by realization. _Perfect. I can spend the night at Melissa's and Daddy can go to hell._ _I so don't need him._"Oh, that. Hmm..." She pretended to think it over. "I _guess_, I mean, I can go to Milan anytime, really. God, it's been _so_ busy this week, with all the travel and stuff. I told you Daddy made me visit with some government guys in England, right? It's so hard having to make time for _everyone_ and _everything_." Melissa just nodded, as though any of this were familiar to her. "It'll be good for me, ya know, doing something so unimportant for once."

Melissa's eyes lit up, either not recognizing the insult or deciding to ignore it. "So you'll come?"

"Sure, whatever."

Her friend squealed, "Awesome! I'll let everyone know." With that said, she whipped out a rhinestone-covered Blackberry and immediately started texting.

Princess, normally irritated at being ignored, took this opportunity to go over the plans in her head. _So I'll stay with Melissa tonight. Daddy should be back to his senses by morning. _Just as a smile began to spread across her face, it vanished. _Crap. How am I gonna get my stuff? I am __**so **__not going home....Guess I'll just have to buy something._ The word 'buy' immediately surfaced the all-too-recent memory of her blow-up at _Diamonique_. As discreetly as possible, she opened her purse and peeked in her wallet. About $600 dollars in cash. _Hmm...guess that'll have to be enough until tomorrow._ The thought of having to put up with a limited about of money completely pissed her off, but there was no one to run to for more. And certainly no one to vent with.

She'd have to deal. Somehow.

Without a word to Melissa, who was too absorbed in her textsation to notice, Princess left.

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**From Chex:** Well, not much to say about this chapter. It turned out okay, in my opinion. At this point the only real challenge is trying to see how to portray Princess's relation to her friends, which, as to be expected, isn't so great. But I'm not sure how well I played Melissa's character. Not that she's major, but still. Please review because I greatly encourage feedback.


	3. The Facade

**From Chex:** I'm trying extremely hard to stay on top of updates. This story's moving a tad bit slower than "Trust Me". But no big deal, I guess. So long as I incorporate everything I want. Enjoy chapter three.

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_Ding-Dong!_

Melissa Hamilton jumped at the high-pitched echoing sound that was her doorbell. "That's her!" She raced up the stairs, flung open the door, then tried to appear nonchalant when she greeted Princess. She stood in the doorway, holding a pink duffel bag, clearly designer, with her name monogrammed in large rhinestone letters. Oddly, she was in the same outfit she'd been wearing earlier. Princess normally grabbed at any chance to show of a new outfit she'd bought straight off the runways of Paris. "Hey, we've been waiting for you." Melissa tossed her glossy brown hair and moved clear out of the way as Princess entered, wordless. Her sharp green eyes searched Melissa's home critically, apparently looking for anything to stick her nose up at.

Melissa held her breath, feeling self-conscious, and desperately racked her brain for anything to distract her friend. "Um, is that all your stuff? Is your chauffeur coming back with more?"

Princess scoffed, "God, Melissa. It's just one night. No need to make a production out of it."

The brunette blinked. _Since when does she __**not**__ like to make a production out of something? _Princess's history of dramatic entrances to even the smallest of events was very well-known. They usually consisted of limos or helicopters, at least three servants to carry her things or just make her look important, and, on occasion, confetti and trumpeters. (Though she'd grown out of that, for the most part.) Showing up on the Hamilton's doorstep with just a duffel bag and her purse was NOT a standard Princess Entrance.

Not that Melissa would call her on it. "C'mon, the girls are all here." Princess, familiar with the layout of the Hamilton's home, made her way to the stairs that led to the basement.

The entire room was the length and width of the Hamliton's home. Most of Melissa's events took place in the basement since it was carpeted, had a home-theater, mini-fridge, it's own bathroom, and was painted a vibrant yellow that, combined with the teal carpet and assorted colored bean-bag chairs, made the room modernly chic.

The enormous flat-screen was dutifully turned to MTV and five girls had arranged themselves in front of it, flipping through magazines and chatting animatedly.

Princess came to a halt, waiting to be acknowledged. Melissa cleared her throat nervously. Princess is NOT to be ignored. "Guys!" All five heads turned and appreciative squeals went around.

"PRINCESS!!" Abandoning whatever insignificant things they'd been doing, they rushed over to bask in her presence. Princess fought back a smirk. As they gushed over every minor detail of her appearance, she did a head count.

Present company included Kelly Sanders, the bleached-blond chopstick-thin girl whose family owned a successful restaurant in town. After Princess and Melissa, she was the third richest girl in Townsville and the group kiss-ass. Continuing down the food chain, there was also Andretta Price and Nissie Bennett. Their matching dark hair and olive skin made them almost indistinguishable. Andretta's father was a lawyer at a high-standing firm and Nissie's mother was the author of several well-selling self-help books. (The only explanation they could find for why she sometimes spoke like a teen counselor.) And finally, Beth Flores, the group's scapegoat. Her father managed one of the town plants and her mother worked at the local pharmacy. They had enough money, but Beth wasn't as well-off as the rest of them. A fact they constantly made known. Trisha Coows, the group's official gossip, was absent that night.

Princess nodded slightly in approval. She could only associate herself with the best. And while these girls were hardly on her level, they were the best Townsville had to offer her. Melissa was the daughter of two doctors, and therefore the only one suitable for the role of her best friend. She was also second-in-command of the group. Melissa desperately wanted to cut Beth, something Princess never allowed. The group needed to be oddly numbered. Even numbered groups balanced power between the first and second in command, something she was sure Melissa knew. And that was out of the question. Princess needed to be undoubtedly in charge.

Solidly in the center of her group, Princess seated herself in a bean bag chair that no doubt had been someone else's seat only seconds ago. The girl's arranged themselves around her and she pulled her duffel bag close to her side protectively.

In the few hours before her arrival, Princess had spent the remainder of the day preparing for this night. Irritably enough, she'd blown nearly all the money she'd had on her and _still _hadn't gotten everything she wanted! She'd bought a new silk gown, a sleeping mask, the basic toiletries she'd need, slippers, and the duffel bag she was currently holding. As well as a mini-dress just for the heck of it. Not only that, but the duffel hadn't come in purple, her favorite color. Normally, she'd have one special ordered and shipped from overseas just to meet her needs. But this time she had to settle for pink. And the rhinestoned _Princess_ on the side wasn't even a monogram. Just a generic decoration as unique as _Cutie_ or _Baby _or the thousands of other mainstream pet names they'd advertised.

Not that anyone needed to know that.

"Ooh! I _love_ those shoes!" Kelly gushed. Sucking up was her specialty, one of Princess's favorite things about her despite the fact that it was slightly annoying and fake sometimes.

Princess flexed her heel, showing off her gold pumps. "Oh, these? Just something I picked up on my trip to England. Just about the only thing too. The shopping there sucked." She leaned back, examining her perfectly manicured nails while her friends hung on her every word. _This_ was where she belonged.

_Screw Daddy_, she thought for the millionth time that day. _He's going to be **so** sorry he let me go he'll be begging for me to come back in no time_. She smirked, completely self-assured. _Maybe he's already called. _Taking a pause from retelling her trip, she pulled out her iPhone.

No new messages...and no service bars. She frowned. _What the hell?_

"I've been texting you for, like, _ever_," Andretta drawled, popping her signature grape gum. "Did you get any of my messages?"

Princess checked her inbox. The most recent messages were from the previous night. "Uh, no."

"What?" Andretta brought out her Palm Pre and the rest of the girls followed suit, checking their own phones. It was an officially unwritten rule that each member of the clique must at least attempt to contact Princess at least twice a day, regardless of whether or not she responded. "See?" she held out her phone, the screen showing recently sent messages, most of which were to Princess. "I totally text you."

"Well, they didn't go through. _Clearly _there's something wrong with your phone," Princess snapped and Andretta retracted her hand as if she might bite.

"Um, I'll text you right now." Beth quickly sent out a message on her slightly out-of-date Nokia. "There. Did you get that?"

Princess stared at her phone blankly. Nothing.

"Wait, it...it says your number's been disconnected," Beth said. "Did you change it or something?"

A lump formed in her throat. Princess stared at her phone, silently sending out text messages and attempting phone calls. Nothing. Everything bounced back.

She had no service.

Her phone clattered to the ground.

"Um, are you okay?" Nissie asked, attempting to sound gentle but unable to hide how weirded out she was. She picked up the phone. "What's wrong with it?" She started to tap the touch screen.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This SO isn't happening!_ Princess shook her head stiffly, making her red curls vibrate. "Nothing." She snatched it away from Nissie who squeaked in response. "It's just this stupid basement or something. I'm not getting any reception from down here."

Despite the fact that everyone else was getting perfect reception, no one argued with her. No one argues with Princess if they value their social status.

Her sharp green eyes sought out a victim. She needed someone to chew out. Now. "Beth," she spat. "_what_ did I tell you about doing that to your hair? You look even more boring than usual."

Beth blushed, touching her straight dirty-blond hair that she'd done up in a quick, convenient ponytail, self-consciously. "I-I guess...I wasn't thinking. You're right, it looks awful." She hung her head, ashamed and embarrassed.

Kelly nodded. "I keep telling her. _Highlights._"

"Right," she sneered. "because they've done _wonders_ for your hair."

Kelly, completely unused to being one of Princess's victims, clamped her mouth shut. An uneasy silence settled over the room. Princess uttered a low throaty sound, practically jumping out of her chair and storming into the bathroom and slamming the door so hard behind her it vibrated.

The familiar anger convulsions she'd been experiencing all day rushed back. Her body shook, her breathing was ragged, and her skin felt uncomfortably clammy. The only thing that kept her from crying out in rage was the fact that her friends were sitting right outside, would hear, and would rush in to find her having a breakdown. Glancing in the mirror, her skin looked drawn and pale. Her eyes, bright green, looked...unsettling. She briefly wondered if she should splash water in her face like they always did in movies, but then remembered her make-up wasn't waterproof.

_First my cards....now my phone. That jackass! When he comes to his senses he's going to owe me __**big time**__!_ In the recesses of her mind, a tiny seed of doubt planted itself in her head.

_What if he doesn't come to his senses?_

She shook her head. _Stupid. He __**has**__ to come to his senses. I'm his only daughter. He wouldn't just kick me out for a woman he's known for a couple of weeks._ She laughed nervously. _He'll sleep on it and by tomorrow he'll realize how stupid he was. He'll scour the city until he finds me and then he'll bring me home to my newly decorated room with a new cell phone and platinum credit cards._ She sighed, calmed by her own fantasies.

Taking another glance in the mirror, her skin had returned to it's normal color and her cheeks had a healthy flush. Quickly she straightened her skirt and touched up her mascara. She marched out of the bathroom, not even registering how her friends hushed as she re-entered, as though she'd been the topic of their conversation. She was perfectly okay now, so nothing else mattered. She even managed a small, triumphant smile as she sat down, one thought racing constantly through her head.

_Everything's going to be fine._

* * *

**From Chex:** I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit uneventful. It was partly just a filler. But the next one definitely won't be. I'm trying to be very detailed with this whole story. I see this becoming another lengthy one. As always, I greatly encourage feedback since I desperately need it.


	4. The Giveaway

**From Chex:** I've been putting off this chapter for some reason. Sorry. I guess I should get on with it. I appreciate the reviews from last chapter, by the way. Hope this one meets everyone standards.

* * *

"OhmyGod! You won't believe what Trisha just sent me," Kelly squealed, flashing her cell phone at the group. She had a tendency to get overexcited about things. "There's something big going on in town!"

"What is it?" Princess asked, emerging from the bathroom in her brand-new strapless teal mini dress. Everyone else was still in their pajamas since she had automatic first rights to the shower at any and every sleepover. Her hair was piled into a deceptively complicated up-do and she had on more makeup than usual. All this was to disguise the fact that, as far as clothes went, she was lacking for the time being. And hopefully no one would notice she still had on the same gold shoes she wore yesterday. "Melissa, soy chai latte, no whipped cream," she ordered as if her best friend were a waitress. Melissa disappeared upstairs to fetch her drink.

After her short break-down and quick recovery, Princess had fallen back into her old routine relatively easily. The previous night had gone pretty much eventless, apart from the rest of the girls being put on edge. It was like they were walking on eggshells around her.

"So what's the big thing, Kelly?" Beth asked, avoiding eye contact with Princess. Clearly, she'd decided, this was the best way to avoid getting harped on.

"I don't know, but they're giving out, like, a _bunch_ of awesome stuff," Kelly gushed, twirling a lock of her stringy blond hair.

"That's just like you to get excited over a few cheap freebies," Princess stated plainly.

Kelly blushed, "W-What I meant was, well, she said everyone's there. It'd be a good chance to, you know, get a little dirt on everyone. And we wouldn't want to miss anything for Monday." Keeping up with daily gossip was a group must. Even if the event was lame, if it drew in a lot of people, Princess and her entourage were required to go in case a scandal broke out.

"Well, I'm the only one who's ready. You girls still need to get dressed."

"If there's any hot water left," Andretta muttered, not quietly enough.

Princess turned to glare at her and the brunette prepared herself for one of her biting comments when Melissa reappeared, carrying a tray of tall glasses. She set one in front of each of the girls. "Where's Nancy?" Princess asked innocently, referring to the Hamilton's housekeeper.

Melissa ground her teeth together. Princess knew perfectly well that Nancy only came to the house a few times a week and that was strictly for cleaning. Nancy wasn't like the red-head's maids. She wasn't required to wait on them hand and foot. Even though she pretended to forget, Melissa knew little comments like that were Princess's way of reminding her that even though she may be her best friend _and_the second richest girl in Townsville, they were still on two completely different levels. Princess's being the highest.

"This isn't one of her days," Melissa said nonchalantly. "So what's this big thing and are we going?"

"As soon as everyone else gets ready."

A little over an hour later, Princess dubbed everyone suitable to be seen with in public. After a tense silence, during which everyone was expecting Princess to announce that she was calling her town car or limo, she snapped at Melissa, "What the hell are we waiting for? Did that piece of crap car of yours bite it or something?" Which is how they ended up taking Melissa and Nissie's cars.

Contrary to her leader's opinion, Melissa drove a sleek silver BMW convertible; hot by just about anyone's standards. Princess rode shot-gun with Kelly in the back seat, chattering animatedly about how Trisha had just heard from Angela's sister that her boyfriend was cheating on her with a sophomore.

"I mean, even if she _is_ a train-wreck, he could do _sooo_ much better," she droned.

Normally this was her kind of scandal. She'd be debating on the best ways to announce it at school tomorrow and, ultimately, humiliate Angela while still seeming completely innocent. But she was off.

_Where the hell are we going anyway? _She wondered. They had just based Rosewood Lane, the coveted part of town filled with all the blue collar people in gorgeous town houses, cool cars, and hot tubs. Melissa lived around the corner on Delaney Avenue, an equally high-end neighborhood. Her eyes widened. _No way. Are we--_

"Whoa," Melissa whistled.

Kelly gasped. "Did you know about this, Princess?"

They were parked along the curb. In front of the Morbucks estate. Hordes of people crowded around the edge property. Just outside of the property line, tents were set up. Large racks of clothes and furniture lined the sidewalk. It was like some bizarre street fair.

"Princess?"

She blinked. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I knew. Duh. I...just forgot." She shrugged, turning her face away.

"Well, what's going on? Isn't that all your stuff? What are they doing?" Kelly hopped out of the car and ran towards the crowd without waiting for an answer to any of her questions.

Melissa cut the engine and turned to Princess. "What _is_ going on? Why is all your stuff outside on the sidewalk?"

_'Cause my jackass father kicked me out! _Princess flipped her hair and puffed out her chest, opening the door, trying to stall for time. Her eyes darted nervously towards the crowds, people taking her things. A few of their guards stood around to keep peace. "I'm getting a new wardrobe," she blurted, then contemplated this lie. It sounded good. The first one's usually were. "I didn't need any of that stuff anymore. Daddy's buying me a ton of new stuff so...no big deal. Go grab something if you want it." She waved her off. Melissa hesitated, wondering if taking her best-friend's hand-me-downs was lame, but apparently curiosity got the best of her.

Princess waited until Melissa had immersed herself in the crowd. Then she jumped out of the car and raced towards the front gate where no one stood but a sole servant. "Chauncy," she uttered quietly. He glanced her way, surpised. "Chauncy, let me in. I need to speak to Daddy."

"I'm sorry, but you're no longer allowed on Morbucks property, Miss," he stated with obvious satisfaction.

"I am a Morbucks," she hissed indignantly.

"Not according to your father."

"Chauncy, I swear, you had better--"

"Need I call security?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. He didn't even attempt to hide his smirk as her eyes widened and she backed away from him. She glanced from him to the crowd, and huffed angrily. Running off.

_That LOW-LIFE!! _She hung back slightly from the crowd but blended enough so that Chauncy wouldn't spot her. _He wouldn't really call security on me, would he?_ She looked around, her irritation growing.

Trisha may exaggerate almost everything, but she'd been dead-on this time. _Everyone _was here. And all her stuff was out in the open. All her clothes. Her bed and dressers. Her jewelry. Even her undergarments. EVERYTHING. Sitting on the sidewalk outside her house. Like _trash._

"Oooh! Isn't this pretty?" Princess whipped around and gasped. Rooting through _her _jewelry box, holding _her _white-gold sapphire necklace against her throat, was the blue Powerpuff. She was facing the girl next to her.

"That'll be gorgeous on you," the former heiress heard her respond. "I think I saw a matching bracelet in here somewhere..."

_This...isn't happening._ Princess leaned against one of the flimsy tables. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, pounding in her ears. _My stuff...I have to save my stuff!_ She stumbled away, hoping no one had recognized her. She hid herself behind the tall racks of designer dresses. _Her_ designer dresses.

Movers pushed empty racks into large Uhaul trucks and more racks were brought out. People were racing back and forth, storing things they grabbed in their cars and racing to get more. Princess watched, trembling, from her hiding place. Then a pair of hands thrust through the racks.

"OhmyGod! Isn't this dress, like, totally A-list?!"

_Kelly!_ She shrank back, paralyzed. What on Earth would Kelly say if she found her hiding in here like this? She stepped backwards, shrinking behind an adjacent rack of clothes. She snatched off a red hooded jacket and threw it on, covering her face with the hood. _I can't let anyone see me!_ She ran out from behind the racks, completely unnoticed by Kelly. She looked around nervously, feeling helpless. Everyone around her was smiling, grabbing at her things. She felt as if time had been slowed.

_N-No...I can't let them do this!_ She shoved her way through the crowd, grabbing blindly at anything within her reach. Shoving it all haphazardly into her purse and pockets. Her small clutch was bursting as it was. _My bag!_ Hardly thinking, she raced back to Melissa's car. The doors were locked, but the top was down. Bending over the door, she reached under the seat and felt for the soft fabric, relief flooding through her when it was within her grip. She barely had time to feel grateful that she hadn't thrown it in the trunk before she raced back towards the tents.

Soon her duffel was bursting as well. She had no idea what it was she had stuffed in there. But it was hers and that was all she needed to know. Every few minutes she would see someone holding something, anything, she recognized and would shove them away, snatching it from them and throwing it into her duffel. Before long she was sweating profusely, trying desperately to avoid being seen, yanking her hood down as far as it would go.

"Hey!" an older woman protested as Princess shoved her aside ruthlessly. "You could say 'excuse me'!"

"Yeah, and you _could_ have gotten out of my way. But you didn't."

"Tsk!" The woman stormed off and Princess rolled her eyes. Who did she think she was? She had no right to talk to her like that when she was rooting through all the things she was too poor to afford. Princess shuddered, disgusted with her close proximity with all these lower-class people.

She spotted Bubbles again, leaving with her friend, holding a bag in her arms. Princess caught sight of something metal poking out of the sides. _Is...is that my laptop?!_ As she was about to make a move to stop her, two figures behind her caught her eye.

The old woman was conversing in hushed tones with a large, burly security guard. The woman caught her eye and pointed swiftly at her. Princess ducked her head, but not before she saw the guard moving quickly towards her.

_Oh, crap!_ She ran.

* * *

**From Chex:** I felt compelled to throw in one of the Puffs so I chose Bubbles since she seemed the most appropriate. Anyway, I found a lot of typos and such in the previous chapter (which I edited), so I've been doing a ton of revising with this. If anyone spots any errors, please point them out for me.


	5. The Realization

**From Chex:** I know it's been almost a month since the last update, but I have only four words for all of you. Final. Exams. Are. _Murder_. That's all there is to it. So here's your chapter at last.

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"I want a suite on the top floor. The best one you've got." Princess leaned forward over the reception desk, staring into the eyes of a rod-figured woman who could only have been in her early twenties, but was obviously trained to act otherwise. Her name tag read _Sally_, but she conveyed none of the cheerfulness normally associated with a name like that. She regarded Princess with cold disapproval, reminding her eerily of the sharp-faced woman at _Diamonique_.

"Yes, well, I'm assuming you have a card or some form of payment for this room," Sally stated in a tone that clearly said she thought otherwise.

Princess huffed impatiently, then remembered the state she was in. Dressed in a hooded red jacket thrown recklessly over her minidress, carrying a duffel and purse that was stuffed to the brim with her clothes and trinkets. She threw back her hood and the woman gasped, immediately recognizing her. Princess was well-known around all the high-end places in town. Particularly at _The Meilleur_, the best hotel in Townsville. Her visits occurred whenever she found herself too agitated to go home and the blatant obedience of her servants grew irritating.

"Oh! M-Miss Morbucks! I'm so sorry," she immediately lowered her head and immersed herself in making the arrangements. "You'll have to forgive me. I simply didn't--"

Princess held up her hand, silencing her. "Save it. I don't need excuses. I need a room and someone to carry my stuff. _Now._ Charge it to my dad's account." Her lips curled into a slight smirk. He couldn't have severed all her connections so quickly, and she was perfectly prepared to eat into as much of his money as possible for as long as possible.

"Of course. I-I'll just be a second." She slipped away from her post, leaving Princess to wait in the all-too familiar setting. Taking in the sight of the lobby; the glossy marble floors, the prim and polished seating area, the enormous crystal chandelier dangling overhead. All of it had the same calming affect as the mall. A familiar place she was used to. A place she belonged and everything outside was fictional. A place where she was still rich.

"Miss Morbucks," Two well-tailored young men came up to her, one holding a tray with what appeared to be a pina colada. "I'll take your, um, bag," the other one eyed her doubtfully.

She briefly considered denying the offer, terrified to let go of the only things she'd managed to save. _Ugh. What the hell am I thinking? He's just a bellboy._ She thrust it at him and snatched the drink. "About time. Are you going to show me to this room or what?"

Of course, she was familiar with the deluxe suite. The plush king-sized bed with the soft silky sheets and thick comforter sat back against the right side wall, directly across from the 72-inch plasma screen. The cream-colored decor gave the room a light and airy feeling. The balcony faced town hall, not a particularly impressive view, but better than any others on this floor. And it wasn't as if she spent a great deal of time looking out the window.

She nodded slightly in approval before stepping inside, snatching back her things and shutting the door firmly in the faces of both the employees. And locking it.

She threw her duffel on the bed. _Ok. Let's see what I got._ She emptied the contents haphazardly onto the bed, spreading them out so she could see everything. Then she emptied her clutch purse as well. The pile barely fit onto the bed, but once everything was emptied she felt a dull ache growing in her chest.

_This...This can't be it._ In terms of clothes, she'd managed to grab a flimsy pink tank top, an old pair of jeans she'd bought in Europe, a purple wrap-dress, two miniskirts, a silk top, a long brown knit coat she couldn't recall ever wearing, black sandals, and (thankfully) two pairs of panties and a black lacy bra.

She stared blankly, tossing the clothes to one side and searching frantically for anything she might've missed. All that was left was what had already been in her bag, which was the outfit she wore yesterday and her pajamas.

The dull ache grew into a burning sensation, cluthing at her lungs. She breathed heavily through her mouth. _Stay. Calm. I must've gotten all the jewlrey then. _Princess vaguely recalled sweeping her hand across the jewelry table in her mad rush. A lot had fallen out of her duffel. And her clutch had been practically filled with it.

The clutter of jewels and gems on the bed calmed her, but only briefly. After sorting through it all she found that most of the earrings had lost their matches, a necklace had been broken in the zipper of her bag, and she'd only managed to grab a small handful of her rings. The only workable items were a pair of peacock feather earrings, a pair of diamond studs, a lengthy pink-pearl necklace, a turquoise beaded bangle, two silver chain-link bracelets, a ring with a somewhat modest ruby stone, two onyx rings, and one diamond ring that was only big enough to fit on her pinky.

In the miscellaneous pile, all she'd managed to get where a few hair clips and accessories, a bottle of her French lavendar shampoo, and an old pda she could've sworn she threw out ages ago when she updated.

And that was it.

She shook her head, refusing to believe it. The burning sensation exploded inside of her. Her breathing was hitched and uneven. She could hear her own blood pounding in her ears again. Her knees gave from under her and she slipped to the thickly carpeted floor. What was this now? Her third anxiety attack? Fourth, maybe? This had to stop.

She was shaking horribly, trying to calm herself as the realization hit. This was all she had left. A couple of outfits and accessories were all she had left to her name. _It's ok. It's not real. Daddy'll fix it. Daddy always fixes it...!_ Thinking about her father brought back everything she'd tried so hard to forget yesterday. His words rang clear in her head.

_"You're an embarrassment."_

_No...._

_"You're unworthy of the name Morbucks."_

_I'm not!_

_"...I'm not legally your father."_

_YES YOU ARE!!_

"Daddy!" She bent forward, her erratic red curls splaying out around her. She sobbed uncontrollably. She could feel her face get sticky with tears and ruined make-up. She couldn't breathe. Her chest ached, her lungs were being crushed...She was going to die.

"Auh!" She gasped desperately for breath. Her eyes, wide and terrified leaked salty tears all over her face. _N-No...No! This isn't it! This isn't fair! I'M PRINCESS!!_ A new feeling washed over her. Rage. Hot, acidic rage. Her eyes narrowed. She _was_ Princess. Which meant everything would work out the way it always did. The way it always had and would forever. So what if she didn't have all her clothes back yet? Someone would fix this, even if it wasn't her daddy. _She_ would fix this. It would work out. How could it not? She was _Princess_.

Grabbing the bed's comforter for support, she lifted herself up. She pushed her hair back from her face and blew out an exasperated breath. She practically threw off the red jacket. It was hot. Too hot. She was already coated in a thin sheen of sweat, not only from her...episode, but her run to the hotel. She felt disgusting.

"...I need a bath."

Slowly, she removed her hands from the bed and grabbed her shampoo. She cautiously took a few steps towards the bathroom, feeling relieved that she could once again stand on her own two feet. Even if she was a little shaky.

Her movements were slow, but determined. A minute later she found herself staring, appalled, at her reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked...haggard. Her make-up was running and caked on her face. Her once elegant up-do had come undone and her hair splayed around her chaoticly. Probably a result of wearing the hood. There was a sickly look to her pale skin. Her eyes, as usual lately, looked wild.

Hot water was running steadily into the gigantic tub. She unscrewed a small bottle of herbal-scented bath beads and poured in nearly all the contents. Almost immediately, the water bubbled and the room fogged over with a sweet, medicinal scent. The tub was only a little over half-full when she stripped and immersed herself.

The hot water eased away the tension, forcing her muscles to relax. She sighed, "Thank God!" The feeling of luxury lapped over her again, making her forget her plight, if only momentarily.

Roughly twenty minutes later, there was a tentative knock on her door. Then a louder, more urgent one. "God, what _now_?" Princess was in the mist of drying off. Her hair was still dripping wet and she had just realized she didn't have a blow dryer. She wrapped a towel around her head and threw on the hotel robe hanging over the door.

The door swung open. "_What_?" she shrieked. A red-raced, heavy-set man in a gray suit ducked his head at her. Sticking out his hand he said, "Miss Morbucks, a pleasure."

She scoffed, "For you, maybe. What the hell do you want? I'm busy." At least she could still conduct herself normally around people.

The man cleared his throat, his face growing brighter. He retracted his hand, laughing nervously as though she'd been joking. "Ahem, yes, well...I'm Mr. Ebson, the manager. I, um, well I spoke with your father's assistant."

She felt like he'd slapped her. _What?_

He didn't seem to notice. "The thing is, Miss Morbucks, y-your father said to, uh, h-he said...that I should ask you to leave." He was sweating. Clearly this wasn't easy for him either. "Now, maybe there's been, I don't know, some sort of misunderstanding? Would you like to talk to your father first?" All of this came uncertainly. As feared as Princess was, her father was even more so. You never displease Princess Morbucks. And you never, under any circumstances, displease Cornelius Morbucks. But there had never come a time when displeasing one meant pleasing the other, so what was he to do?

Meanwhile, the red-head was on 'Pause'. She stared blankly at Mr. Ebson. Or through him for that matter. Her brain working agonizingly slowly. _How could he have found out already?_ She turned halfway towards the bed, where all her worldly possessions lay just out of view of the man in her doorway.

"So what do you think? Miss Morbucks?"

Mechanically, she shut the door in his face, turning the lock.

There was silence, and then loud rasps at the door. "Miss Morbucks? Are you calling your father? Miss Morbucks!"

She pressed her fingers against her temples, waiting for her chest to start constricting...but nothing happened. The bath must've calmed her down more than she thought. Her lips pulled into a small smile, then a smirk.

She could handle this.

Sighing, she began to repack her things, ignoring the loud banging and shouting until it went away completely. _Alright. Whatever. Screw this place. Screw Daddy. I can take care of myself. I'll just go..._ She froze, her hands hovering over her bag. _I can just...I-I can go..._

Go where?

* * *

**From Chex: **This chapter turned out pretty much as planned. The truth has finally been acknowledged, so the real turning point comes next. As always, I'd appreciate feedback, and feel free to point out any grammatical errors. And I also apologize for the wait. Sometimes it just can't be helped.


	6. The Escape

**From Chex:** It's been so long since I've updated this that I really don't know what to say. Other than sorry, I mean. So I guess I'll spare you all the excuses and get right to the chapter.

* * *

_This completely and totally sucks._ Gripping her duffel bag tightly on her shoulder, Princess roamed the near empty streets of the city. Leaving the hotel, she'd thrown on the jeans and silk top, pulling on the brown coat over top. Her hair, still slightly damp, was held up with a simple elastic.

It was already late and the streetlights were on. To avoid being seen, she'd decided it'd be best to stick to the secluded part of town until she figured out were she wanted--or could--go. But now that choice seemed to be weighing on her as she eyed her surroundings--the run-down buildings on nearly deserted streets--as she tried desperately to figure out just where she was while looking like she had a specific destination in mind.

_God, there has got to be somewhere in this stupid city for me to go._ She briefly lingered on the idea of going to a club, but it'd be awkward, really, to have to be on her feet anywhere while she had her duffel. And she wasn't about to let it out of her sight. Not for anything.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as the exhaustion began to set in. She'd been on her feet for hours. If she didn't find some place soon...

"Heey, where ya headed?" Her head whipped around. Passing an alleyway, she was just barely able to make out the silhoette of a man...two men a few feet away from her.

Her mouth turned down in a sneer. "Like that's some of your business." Turning her nose up, she attempted to breeze by them. A hand shot out, clamping down on her wrist. "Hey!"

The men stepped into the light. The one holding her staggered a little on his feet. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of beer and smoke. He grinned crookedly at her. "Fiesty. I could get into that...You should come back to our place since you said you ain't goin' nowhere."

_So not what I said_. Just as she was about to give her fully uncensored opinion on that, she felt the other man staring at her with unsettling intensity. The man holding her was clearly drunk and ridiculous, not much of a threat. But this one...he looked fully sober. He leaned against the brick wall with, feigning apathy, but in his hand was the barely concealed blade of a knife.

A cold chill slipped down her back. Years of ruthless social climbing and networking taught her to never show fear around others. Fear was a weakness, something they could prey on...She didn't scream. Instead, she raised her free hand, swipping it down on the man's wrist and raking her nails across his skin hard enough to draw blood. He winced, cursing, and loosened his grip enough for her to break free.

She took off, her heart a beat ahead of her. Behind her, the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement trailed after her. _That drunk bastard could barely stand. There's no way..._ Sure enough, a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her thoughts. It wasn't the man who'd grabbed her. It was his friend.

Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. Eyes scanning the area frantically, she rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a glass door as someone pushed their way out of a building. They kept walking without so much as a glance in her direction, and she ducked inside behind them.

The place turned out to be some kind of diner. There were small round tables and four booths lining the wall. The seats were all made of some hideous burgundy-colored plasticy cushions that looked like they'd seen better days somewhere far in the past. The wallpaper could only be described as urine-colored and the floor was dull and somewhat sticky looking. If she'd been at all composed, Princess initial reaction would have been immediate disgust and a hurried departure from such a low-class establishment.

Behind the linolemum counter was a dirty-blonde woman in a grey-blue waitress uniform, one arm in an overcoat. She froze, eyeing Princess with complete and utter irritance. She shoved her other arm hastily into her coat and moved over to stand behind the cash register.

She huffed impatiently, "_No_, we don't close for another two minutes, so I suppose you just wanna 'grab something real quick' that's gonna eat into an hour of overtime I'm not getting paid for, huh?" Her eyes narrowed threateningly, as if daring Princess to try and order even a glass of water.

Princess stood, frozen, in front of the door. Her heart had continued to hammer against her chest, leaving no room for her lungs to stretch and breathe. Her eyes, wide with terror, were fixed firmly on the waitress.

When she didn't receive an answer, the blonde woman took a moment to look her over. Taking in her frightened stare and tense posture, her gaze softened. "Hey, are you alright?"

Pressing a hand against her chest, Princess tried to no avail to appear calm. "T-There's a guy...has a k-knife..." she pointed weakly out the door, breathing in small gasping breaths. She tried to take a step forward, but she stumbled. Her vision was starting to swim...

Coming from around the counter, the waitress waved a hand towards the stools at the counter. "Take a seat and rest for a bit." She slipped around Princess to lock the door and flip the door sign to Closed. She went back behind the counter, glancing over her shoulder at the red-head, who hadn't moved an inch. "Or, ya know, you could stand there for the rest of the night. Morning's in about four hours."

The sarcastic comment didn't even register with her. She was too busy focusing on making it to the counter without falling. She leaned against the counter heavily. The blonde waitress plugged in the coffee maker and reached under the table, pulling out a long wooden bat and leaning it against her shoulder. She stared at Princess. "You look like crap."

This time, however, the comment did register, just as Princess was beginning to calm down. She narrowed her eyes, assessing the woman from head to toe. She looked to be in her early twenties, only a few years older than Princess, but her eyes looked old and tired. Her hair was thrown up in a messy pony tail and her face was completey free of any make-up. The uniform, Princess decided, made her look old and frumpy, although it'd probably have that affect on anyone. Her name-tag read 'Krystal'.

Her nose wrinkled and she snorted. "Like you can talk. I mean, who are you supposed to be, the poster girl for Hell's Eatery?" She smirked, waiting for the familiar look of hurt and self-consciousness to flash across Krystal's face. Nothing. She barely blinked.

"Eatery? In case you haven't noticed this is a diner; a lackluster, crappily designed coffee shop." As if to prove her point, she pushed a cup of black coffee towards Princess. "And for the record, I'm not the one dripping sweat and caked make-up."

Princess stared at her, completely unsure of how to respond. She was only used to tossing out the first insult. It was rare she ever got a rebuttal, certainly not one criticizing her appearance. It was completely against social protocal to insult her that way. This girl must not have known who she was.

Which, she thought, wasn't a bad thing. It would've been the end of her if she was recognized sitting in a run-down diner in the bad part of town.

Still, saying something like that to her, who did she think she was?

"So what happened?" Krystal leaned forward on the counter, swinging the bat idly. "Some pyscho with a knife just started chasing you? Not that I wouldn't believe that."

Deciding for once to let the comment go, Princess nodded. "Pretty much." She quickly recounted her brief encounter with the two men, playing down her fear and hurried escape as much as possible. She looked down at her coffee mug. Even in the blurry reflection of the ceramic she could see that Krystal had been right. Her make-up was blotchy and cold sweat dampened her hairline. _I do look like crap..._ Her mood soured considerably.

"Well, you were kind of asking for that," Krystal said, rolling her eyes. "Not the knife, but the chase."

"Huh?"

"You don't just take up an attitude with guys like that. The number one way to guarentee a sleazy bastard will come after you is to bruise his ego. There's no way to guarentee a guy like that won't follow you, but sometimes you gotta just keep walking. 'Specially when you're outnumbered." She spoke with the air and wisdom of someone who'd experienced and knew exactly what she was talking about. The kind of person who knew this part of town and how to work it. And, although she would never admit it, it fascinated Princess just a little.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she heaved, gagging somewhat theatrically as it slid down her throat. "My _God_! What _is_ that liquid shit?"

"The _Up Joe's_ famous houseblend." Krystal said in a somewhat lighter voice, apparently finding her reaction amusing. "Total crap, right? Although that might be because I didn't put anything but spit in it."

"_What?_" Princess shrieked, looking as if she'd willingly shove her finger down her throat just to bring it back up again.

Krystal laughed. "My God, relax. The spit thing was a joke. But seriously, I didn't put sugar or nothin' in it. Figured you'd want something strong to take the shock off." She pushed a plastic table set of _Splenda_ and coffee creamer towards her. "Help yourself."

"Don't you guys make lattes or cappucinos or something?"

"No, but you can put milk in that if you want and pretend it's somethin' fancy."

Sighing, Princess poured in some coffee creamer and allowed herself one _Splenda._ Stirring idly, she hesitated before taking another sip. Slightly less vomit-inducing, but still undeniably crappy. "Is this place seriously called _Up Joe's_? Because that has got to be the worst name in the whole freakin' world."

"Nope, but it represents the coffee well enough, huh? The place is actually called _Cup 'a Joe's_, which Kevin thinks is so damned clever. But the 'C' and the 'a' blew out in the sign so now it just reads _Up Joe's_," Krystal explained.

"So fix the damn sign."

"That would be Kevin's job, but ever since he decided that after years of sitting on his ass he wants to put himself through school he's never around anymore. He doesn't even know about the sign, and I'm not about to tell him." With a quick glance out the window, Krystal set the bat down.

"Why?" Princess asked, then immediately asked herself why she even cared. Not only did she not know this girl or the guy she was talking about, they were so far beneath her they were practically underground.

"Like I said, it represents the coffee well enough."

"Why do you even work in this dump if you think it's such crap?" Princess asked, then quickly decided she wouldn't ask anymore questions. She shouldn't care. _Didn't_ care. "I mean, this place sucks total ass. It smells like old newspaper and burnt toast, the whole interior makes me wanna puke, and you have to wear _that_," She pointed at the hideously unflattering uniform, wrinkling her nose again. "Why?"

Krystal's face took on an impassive, somewhat guarded look. "Some things you just gotta do," she said in a tone indicating that they were done discussing that topic.

Princess sipped at her coffee again. It seemed to be numbing her taste buds; becoming slightly bareable with each sip. She'd only drank about a quarter of it, but it set her stomach to rumbling. She realized with surprise that she hadn't had anything to eat all day. Desparetly wishing for one of her akai berry diet pills, she glanced above Krystal's head at the menu, wondering if it was really worth it to take her chances with the food after the coffee almost killed her. "Any chance I can get a salad?"

"All the food's been put away." The look Krystal gave her clearly said that although she might of had a near death experience, no way in hell was she going to go and find her anything to eat this late at night when her shift was well past done. She'd done her good deed with the coffee and that was it.

Princess looked down at her coffee. It was lukewarm now, but she sipped it slowly. Not wanting to get up and go back out there. She wasn't any closer to a place to stay than she'd been an hour ago. Or two hours ago. Or three. Or four.

The clock across from the menu said it was about a quarter after nine. Krystal still had her coat on and was unplugging the coffee machine. Princess watched silently, trying to make her coffee last and feeling like the biggest loser on the planet.

Krystal glanced at her and she averted her gaze. Her eyes slid from Princess to the pink duffel bag on the floor. Without a word, she opened what looked like a small utility closet against the wall. Inside, however, was a staircase leading up into the darkness. She made her way upstairs.

Princess stared after her, confused, wondering if she was going to be left alone in the little diner by herself. Was she supposed to get out now? Could she stay and finish her coffee? And, more importantly, was there anyway to convince Krystal to let her stay there for the night without sounding like a desperate homeless?

Caught up in her thoughts, she barely heard the voice call down to her from somewhere upstairs: "C'mon! Get your ass up here!"

* * *

**From Chex:** This has taken a turn I wasn't expecting at all. But I have to admit, the new direction I'm seeing is way better than the one I had planned. So for the time being I'll go with it. Again, sorry for the wait. I'd appreciate feedback if you'd all be so kind.


	7. The Sleepover

**From Chex:** Chapter 7 in all it's glory. Enjoy.

* * *

"You _live_ here?" Completely unable to hide her disgust, Princess gaped freely at the small, cluttered living room. Only her and Krystal stood inside and still it felt cramped. In the center was a dingy yellow couch that had to be older than Krystal herself. It was facing a small 12-inch tv set that was missing the upper volume button. It sat on a wooden stand that hardly looked like it could support the weight and might collasp at any moment. There was a small round coffee table with a round top, completely covered in old magazines.

The blue-grey carpet met a linoleum floor across the room from them. The counter separated a small kitchen that, even from the distance, clearly served no more purpose than to store take-out boxes.

"So where's the rest of it?"

Krystal crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "Look. This is it; take it or leave it. And as far as I can tell, you're in no position to leave it."

The red-head bristled. Her eyes narrowed, exuding pure hatred. "Hey! I don't need you or this place!"

Krystal's gaze remained level and steady, not the least bit intimidated. "Is that so? Then get the hell outta here." A look of fear and hopelessness flashed across Princess's face. Desperately trying to keep up her bravado, she glanced at the door hesitantly. She didn't move. "That's what I thought. So you can take the couch, bathroom's across from the kitchen. I'm out. Don't make too much noise." She opened a sliding paper door in the right side wall, her bedroom Princess assumed, and slipped inside.

Princess stood awkwardly in the living room, staring at the sliding door and contemplating the current state of her dignity. Was it really that obvious that she was desperate for a place to stay? Could anyone tell? She thought of all the people she'd passed by to get where she was. Apart from the pyschotic men, no one spared her more than a glance. At the time, she'd been grateful to not have attracted any attention, looking like any other girl walking down the street. But in actuality, had they all just written her off as another homeless bum roaming the streets? _Was_ she just another homeless bum roaming the streets?

_Fuck no,_ she thought, immensely disgusted with herself. Walking over to the couch, she scrutinized it. It was dingy and probably crawling with germs, but her feet were aching from hours of walking. Ultimately, her exhaustion outweighed her distaste. She sat primly, holding her arms tight against her body. _And fuck no to sleeping here too._ _No way in hell am I staying here..._

She drummed her hand against her thigh, noticing for the first time that the paint on her acrylic tips was chipping. She groaned, exasperated with how far she'd fallen in the past few hours. She was still waiting for whatever powers that be to change everything to work in her favor, the way they had throughout her entire life. But patience was never her strong suit...

_I just have to think of some place to go. Then I'll be gone,_ she nodded once to herself to confirm this. _I'll be out of here within the hour._

"Get away from her, B..."

"But I wanna watch TV!"

"Then sit on the floor."

"But...I wanna--"

"B, get away from her, or I swear to God...!"

Groaning, Princess turned further onto her side. Her arm pressed hard against her ear, bending in a slightly painful way. She turned again, trying to find a comfortable position. The muted voices grew louder in her ears as her conciousness returned and she found herself increasingly uncomfortable with the position she was in. "Fuck..."

"Mommy!" A high-pitched voice shouted way too close to her ear, jolting her awake. "She said a bad word!"

"B, stop yelling! She's sleeping!"

"B-But...she said--"

"Christ..." Princess mumbled, straining to open her eyes. "Shut-up, Nounou. I'm trying...to...sleep," She trailed off, momentarily disconcerted as she stared into the bright sky-blue eyes of a 4-year-old boy. He stared back, wrinkling his nose slightly and asked, "What's Nounou?"

She blinked, taken aback by his presence as well as his question. She wasn't used to being around small children. She had always viewed them as pets of a sort. Unsure of how to respond to him, she didn't say anything.

"Hey, lady!" He waved a hand in front of her face, growing impatient. "What's a Nounou?"

She'd been confused. She wasn't back in her room with Nounou, her French nanny that had taken care of her almost since she'd been born. (God knows her father hadn't done that.) Sitting up, she found she was still in that God-forsaken room Krystal had left her in last night. Nothing had changed. This nightmare her life was so quickly turning into hadn't ended yet.

Princess pressed herself against the back of the couch, as far from the boy as she could, trying to figure out how to edge around him. She tried shifting to one side, but he moved as well. His nose wrinkled again. "Your face is messed up," he told her.

She blanched. "Wha?"

"_Bryan_," Krystal said in a calm, yet stern voice that made the little boy bow his head. Princess watched as she came up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What have I told you about things that you're not supposed to say out loud?"

He looked up at Princess guiltily and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Uh..."

"Go eat your cereal," Krystal told him, rubbing his short chestnut hair as he got up and scrambled towards the kitchen. She took one look at Princess and winced. "Ooh...Um, not to encourage him or anything, but he's kinda right."

"What?"

"Remember when I said you looked like crap last night?"

_How you insulted me like you're some kind of beauty queen yourself. Yeah. _Princess nodded, her gaze narrowing. _Gonna apologize?_

"Well, you look about ten times worse now. You might wanna go clean up." She pointed towards the bathroom.

"Ah, ah..." Princess spluttered, staring at her in utter disbelief.

Krystal didn't seem to notice. "The towels are in the closet," she went on.

She was completely thrown off. For the second time in less than 24 hours she was being insulted. And what was she still doing there anyway? Try as she might, she couldn't recall falling asleep.

Krystal was still talking. "And there's make-up remover under the--"

Princess jumped up, nearly tripping over Krystal's feet as she ran for the bathroom. She locked herself inside, sliding in front of the mirror. She nearly collasped at the sight of herself. Krystal had not been exaggerating. Although she really wished she had been...

Her make-up was smeared in every possible direction on her face. Concealer had been rubbed off and a jagged smeared line of eyeliner stretched across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were red-rimmed and dried streaks ran down her face. Almost like she'd been crying, although she couldn't really recall why. Her hair was a completely tattered mess, half in/half out of her bun. Several locks were pasted to her forehead and her curls had turned to tangles.

"My God..." She slid to the floor. Her hands buried deep in her hair where she pulled slightly. "What the hell? What the hell is happening to me?" Tears slid out of her open eyes. She looked around, taking in the interior of the bathroom. It was about the size of a utility closet at her mansion. Hair-care and make-up products were strewn everywhere and dried toothpaste was caked to the sink. She cringed, realizing that in her shock she'd actually fallen and was _touching the floor_. She jumped up. _No! It's not me! It's not! It's this hellish place that's doing this to me! I've gotta get out of here..._

She turned on the shower and yanked open the cabinet underneath the sink, grabbing a towel, a washcloth, and a jar of make-up remover. _I'm so out of here._

About on hour later, she felt ready to be seen in public. She'd managed to work what little she had into a decent outfit using the pink tank top, a miniskirt, and her black sandals. She had thrown on the pink pearl necklace, diamond studs, and silver bracelets to up her glam factor. After all, the more she looked like her old self, the more she felt like her old self.

In terms of make-up...well, she had none. But that certainly didn't mean she could go outside without any. And it took a lot of foundation and concealer to pull off the _au naturale_ look. So, hating herself as she did so, she helped herself to Krystal's supply. It wasn't the expensive high-quality stuff she was used to, but it did the job well enough under the circumstances.

Her hair, clean and combed, was pulled back into a low curly ponytail. She yearned for her stylist, but she also despised him for being controlled by her father. Much like she despised just about every employee to the Morbucks estate at the moment. They may not have been responsible for the state she was in, but they sure as hell weren't helping her.

She crept back into the living room, not wanting to be seen for some reason. But as soon as she was within ten feet Krystal looked up from her seat on the couch where she was watching some cartoon with Bryan. She saw Princess, not taking much interest in her new look other than to say, "You look better."

Princess pressed her lips together. 'Better' didn't necessarily mean good. She realized with a certain degree of horror that this was the best Krystal had ever seen her.

Bryan jumped up, leaning over the back of the couch. "Your face is ok now."

'Ok' wasn't all that great an adjective either.

Krystal stood up. She wasn't in that hideous waitress outfit, but she was dressed a bit more conservatively than Princess would've thought was normal for her. She was in khakis and a teal button-up shirt. And her hair was done up in an updo that made her look younger _and_ older at the same time; more her age, but also more mature and responsible than you'd think she was as a waitress.

Bryan ran towards the door, holding a little Spiderman lunchbox and wearing a blue cap. Princess realized they must've been waiting for her to come out so they could go.

"We're leaving," Krystal announced, her eyes locked firmly on Princess. She didn't move.

Princess stood up straighter. "So am I."

Krystal rose an eyebrow at her, then looked at her pink duffel bag meaningfully; not so much as a suggestion as it was a question. Princess followed her gaze and grabbed it. She didn't plan on coming back.

* * *

**From Chex:** I had planned on continuing this chapter, but it would've extended too long. So the next one will be more interesting, hopefully. This was somewhat of a filler. Feedback is always appreciated.


	8. The Guise

**From Chex: **I'm getting a jump-start on this chapter. To be completely honest, this really should be an update for "Trust Me" since it's obvious I've been getting lazy with that. But unfortuantely I've contracted a terrible virus (WB16) that is preventing me from updating that particular story. It's sad, really. But hopefully I'll be over it soon.

* * *

She was forty-five minutes late for school.

Without access to the family limo, she'd been forced to call a cab, putting another dent into her ever-dwindling cash supply. She could count on her hands the number of times she'd taken public transportation, and the experiences weren't exactly album-worthy memories.

She pushed through the front gate, breezing past the front office. Certainly one of the secretaries or office aids had seen her, but seeing as her father had always been a generous benefactor to the school, formalities such as being on time and turning in work didn't really concern her all that much. Or affect her grades.

When she walked into first period, ten minutes before the final bell, naturally heads turned. Mrs. Morrison looked up and offered an obviously forced smile. "Miss Morbucks, how _nice_ of you to finally join us."

"Yeah, whatever." Princess took her seat in the back, directly between Kelly and Trisha. Both their heads were bowed low in a way that made it obvious that they had their phones in their laps, texting each other most likely. Kelly was the first to notice Princess had arrived, squealing too loudly, "OhmyGod, you're here!" Mrs. Morrison sent her a disapproving look. Unlike most teachers, she wasn't as quick to let Princess and her friends off the hook just for being rich.

Trisha looked up and turned to her left. "Ohemgee, Kel just text me and told me you're here!"

Princess rolled her eyes. _No shit._ Kelly and Trisha were the lowest on the I.Q. ladder in terms of her friends, so she didn't expect much. Not that she was looking for an intelligent conversation. Most days, she adored their utter lack of common sense because it made them that much easier to fold under her thumb. But occasionally they got to be a bit...much.

"Like, where were you? I totally didn't see you yesterday," Trisha said, twirling the pink lock in her blonde hair. Some weeks she liked to change the color of that lock of hair in the front, but pink was always her default setting. Like Kelly, she was reed-thin.

"Yah," Kelly drawled. "We were just talking about yo--" Trisha shot her a look. "--Oh, um. We were just talking."

Princess kicked her feet up. "Around," she said nonchalantly. "I checked out the _The Meilleur_ to, ya know, relax. But that place has gone _so_ downhill. Total shit." She emphasized her voice at certain points to make sure she was heard correctly by the people around them who were so obviously eavesdropping. If she wasn't allowed in that hotel she'd make sure no one she knew would bother to give them their business.

"Seriously? I thought it was, like, _the_ best--

"It's not."

"Oh." Kelly shrunk back a little. "Well, whatever. You will not believe what happened yesterday--"

Trisha interrupted her. "Miss Piggy had, like, a total melt-down at your garage sale--"

"It was _not_ a garage sale," Princess cut her off sharply. "I'm getting a new wardrobe so I gave my old stuff away. For _free_. I don't _need_ to sell it. I don't _need_ anyone's money."

Kelly and Trisha recoiled as if she'd bitten them. Mentally, Princess chastised herself for the small outburst. She was in control. She had to be. People around them were listening, like always. As always, she was the center of attention. She had to be on top of her game.

"Um, yeah. Well, Rachel Parker totally started crying," Trisha continued, clearly trying to tread lightly.

"Really?" Princess asked, showing mild interest and therefore giving her the okay to continue. Trisha practically sighed in relief and commenced to outline her version of what happened with Kelly interrupting to add details here and there. Rachel Parker, other wise known as Miss Piggy, was the heftiest member of the cheerleading squad. She wasn't exactly overweight, but she was thicker than the other girls. And Trisha and Kelly's idea of fat was a little skewed seeing as they had about the combined weight of a housecat.

Apparently, Rachel had been looking at some of Princess's dresses. Which, according to Trisha and Kelly, was _totally _ridiculous since she could so not fit them. So, naturally, they told her this "to save her from the embarrassment of trying them on and seeing for herself." Incidently, they told her this loudly and in front of everyone with a few choice words better left unsaid.

And Rachel fled the scene crying.

"I mean, _God_," Kelly said. "Way to make a scene."

"Totally."

While her friends pretended not to be pleased by this, Princess couldn't have been happier. Thank God something, _something,_ had drawn the attention away from her own escape. Let Rachel suffer. As long as her own reputation was safe, nothing else mattered.

First period folded into second, which turned to third, and then lunch. As the day rolled by, Princess felt her own confidence level rising. No one here seemed to suspect anything was wrong with her life. And the teachers were still sucking up to her as per usual. Her father had ruined everything she held dear, but obviously he could care less about her academics. As far as she could tell, he hadn't bothered to inform the school that she was now an emancipated minor.

Her table was near the center of the cafeteria. She liked a place where all eyes could be on her. As the unofficial rules dictated, she had a plain garden salad without dressing and a strawberry-flavored mineral water. Since she literally couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten or had one of her acai berry diet pills, she'd briefly considered grabbing an actual lunch. As in, some kind of meat and protein. But that thought had disgusted her immediately. She limited herseld to only vegetables and selective fruits. Which was extrememly taxing on her old chef. It'd been years since she had a full meal.

And since this is what she ate, this is what everyone around her was required to eat. No one ever brought an actual lunch to her table. Salad was optional, but only salad and a beverage.

The conversation floated around her. After giving Melissa the okay to discuss something unrelated to her, they proceeded to other gossips while occasionally drawing her back in to make sure she was entertained.

All her attention was on the girl that sat two tables away. The blonde, blue-eyed girled surrounded by friends and adoring males. The _Powerpuff _girl who was currently wearing _her_ pink halter dress with the ruffled hem. And looking irritatingly cute as she did so. It took everything Princess had not to go over there and rip the thing off her. Even as she thought that it suited her skin tone really well and up-ed her innocent factor 200%.

She looked better in that dress than Princess ever had.

"Are you okay?" Nissie tapped her shoulder lightly.

Princess blinked, realizing she'd been glaring. Everyone was staring at her. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Andretta snapped her gum. "Well, you're kinda about to break your fork." She pointed to Princess's hand. Her hand was curled into a fist and she was bending back the handle of her fork, about to snap it.

She let go of it and pushed the salad away. "I'm fine. God."

An awkward silence passed through their group. It seemed like they were having a lot of those lately. Melissa, being the group's second-in-command, saw it as her job to fix. "So, um, about you're new wardrobe..." Safe territory, she thought. Princess loved talking about clothes and she loved talking about herself. So talking about _her clothes_ was always solid ground.

So when Princess gave an elusive shrug, they were thrown off for a bit.

"Where's it coming from?" Nissie pressed. "I mean, Europe, obviously."

Melissa nodded. "Italy? France?"

"_Femme_ magazine says German rogue is, like, totally in right now," Kelly said.

"Oh, shut-up, Kelly," Andretta said, rolling her eyes. "You know how Princess feels about Germany." She gave Princess what barely passed as a sympathetic look. (Her girls didn't do sympathy well.) Princess couldn't quite recall what it was she was supposed to hate about Germany, but she must've bad-mouthed something about it.

The lies came easily, regardless. "I'm getting my wardrobe straight from the heart of Paris. Before even the six-month early release." They all cooed appreciatively and she smirked. "It'll all be handmade by France's top designers. One-of-a-kind."

"That's amazing!"

"Are you going to France for a fitting?"

"I bet it's expensive..."

"_Why?_" It was said barely above a whisper, but every head turned in Beth's direction. She was the lesser of the group. Less rich. Less popular. Less pretty (in their opinion). But she created balance in numbers, so she was kept around. Although reminded frequently of how easily she could be disposed of.

Princess gave her a radiating glare. "What the hell do you mean 'why'?"

Beth cringed. Apparently she hadn't realized she'd been speaking out loud. She looked around at the haughty faces of her 'friends'. "...I-I just meant, uh, you know." She shrugged and Princess rose her eyebrow while folding her arms across her chest, a clear sign that Beth was treading on thin ice. "Um, well, your stuff is all so _nice_," she said, making sure to stress the compliment. "Why give it all away? It just seems like a, um...waste?"

There was another silence. Then Trisha snorted. "_God_, Beth! You sound like such a charity case. Just because _some_ people can't afford to give doesn't mean you have to ruin the fun for everyone."

"Yeah," Kelly chimed. "And Princess is, like, being _totally_ generous. She could've thrown it away since she doesn't want it anymore."

_Don't want it anymore? God, I'd kill for my stuff back._ All day she'd seen familiar items and articles of clothing on just about everyone in school that she knew had come from her room. And each time, her self-control dwindled just a bit. She wanted it back. She _needed_ it back. _It's mine! It's all mine! God, I oughta just take it all back. Who the hell would stop me?_ She started to breathe harder, her body tensing in her rage. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nissie shoot her another of her What's With You looks and knew she had to get out of there before she had another..._episode_.

She stood. "Make-up," she announced briefly, getting ready to head for the bathroom.

Kelly shot up behind her. "That's cool! I totally need to fix my--" Princess shot her a death look, making it clear she didn't need her usual escort. Kelly blanched. "Uh, a-actually...I think it's fine." She sat back down quietly.

Princess left as quickly as possible without making it seem like she was trying to get away from something. The bathroom was adjacent to the cafeteria and normally full of girls pawing in front of the mirror, checking to see that their lunch wasn't apparent on their faces.

Mercifully, it was empty. She all but ran into the large handicap stall farthest from the door and knealt in front of the toilet, about to let all her lunch come back up. She'd been doing so _good._ Despite seeing all her things everywhere, she'd been keeping up her normal facade as best as she could. Apart from a few slip-ups, no one could tell her home life was a wreck.

Or maybe it was her _lack _of a home life. Or home, period.

_Calm down,_ she told herself, wrapping her arms around her body. Her breath hitched in her throat and she doubled over, trying to keep her stomach in place. _You have to make it. You have to stay here._ At that point, it seemed as true as anything. School was the last place where her old life seemed intact. As far as everyone else knew, her life was picture perfect.

The door swung open and she heard footsteps, followed by voices. "--with Morbucks?"

"Princess? I dunno. You think something's wrong?"

"Do I _think_? I know! Did you see her hair? Totally lackluster. Not to mention her pedicure must've been at least a week old. It's seriously chipping. How could she wear sandals like that?"

"I dunno. But it seems weird, I guess. Think it has anything to do with her giving all her stuff away?"

"Maybe. All I know is that she's 'supposedly' getting a new wardrobe, but she _definitely_ wore that miniskirt at Tod's last party. I _know_ it."

Princess felt a lump in her throat, blocking off her air supply. She was choking.

"Maybe her Daddy cut her off." This was followed by giggles and the sink was turned on. "I bet she'd totally freak if that happened.

The lump was moving up quickly. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, only to have it spill out all over her fingers and the floor, completely missing the toilet. It got quiet as she started gagging and she knew that whoever was out there had heard. And that whoever was out there couldn't find out who she was.

"Ew! Bulimic!" One of the girls squealed. She heard the sink shut off and hurried footsteps leading towards the door. Then it was quiet again.

She waited a full minute before standing up shakily and peeking outside of her stall. The bathroom was empty again. She hurried to the sink and washed the vomit off her hands, sniffling. Try as she might, she couldn't keep herself from looking in the mirror.

She'd been kidding herself. Thinking she was fooling everyone. Seeing it so clearly, she was hardly a shadow of her former self.

Whoever she was, she'd been right. Princess's hair _was_ lackluster. She'd missed her salon appointment. Naturally, her hair wasn't as bright red as it seemed. It was actually just a bright auburn. But at a young age, before Pokey Oaks, the school she attended was full of primed, made-up little prissy girls. And her normal hair color hadn't made her stand out the way she wanted. So she went through a few cosmetic changes. Now, without her scheduled coloring, the bright scarlet color was fading to the point where someone she didn't even know had noticed.

Not to mention she was wearing repeats. Regardless of how expensive they were, she'd worn these clothes already. And that was a serious fashion no-no in her book. Her nails were a shimmering gold from her last nail job, contrasting starkly with her silver accents.

For a normal person, this was no big deal. But even the slightest imperfection on Princess Morbucks stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone could see it.

And now, on top of everything, she'd puked in public. Her face was ashen pale and her eyes had that wild look about them again. They too, she noticed, were fading. The bright green was a result of a chemical in her eyedrops she used to enhance her color. It was extremely expensive, but the drops made her eyes look brighter than any contacts. And she didn't have to remember to take them out at night or anything.

Now, her eyes were fading back to their natural hazel color.

She wiped a hand across her face, smearing her make-up and the tears that were now running down her face. One thought blared in her mind, crossing out the truth she'd thought she knew only moments ago.

_I have to get out of here!_

* * *

**From Chex:** Another dramatic Princess exit. I was a little if-y about adding the bit about her natural hair and eye color. I'm sure lots of people prefer her with the vibrant hair, but I wanted to change things up a little. And it's essential for the future of the story. So, yeah. Deal with it. But feel free to criticize anything else. I love feedback.


	9. The Makeover

**From Chex:** I'm trying. I really am. But this story is the only thing I'm getting ideas for lately. "Trust Me" will hopefully be back on track soon. But until then, this story progresses...

* * *

"Welcome!"

Princess jumped, taking a step back from the counter she managed to work up the nerve to approach. Through a small window that looked into the kitchen, a blond boy grinned at her expectantly. Had she been herself, she would've taken one look at his oddly-spiked hair, goofy smile, and too-eager eyes and sent him her patented You-don't-have-a-chance-in-Hell-with-me look.

But, fortunately for him, she was anything but herself. After her embarrassing scene at school and her deteriorating appearance, she wasn't entirely sure _who _she was at the moment. But it certainly wasn't Princess Morbucks. Princess Morbucks wouldn't have been the subject of such gossip. Princess Morbucks wouldn't have let herself slip so far that her appearance was anything less than runway-ready.

And Princess Morbucks would've never set foot in _this_ particular establishment unless her life depended on it. Again.

She grabbed one of the stools, keeping her head ducked low even though no one could've possibly recognized her in the over-sized sunglasses and hat she wore. It was a terribly cliched disguise, but it was the best she could do on such low funds and such short notice. And they covered nearly her entire face.

Approaching the counter again, Princess cleared her throat hesitantly. "I-Is...Is Krystal here?"

The boy gave her a perplexed look. "Krystal? Um, no. She should be here soon though..." He looked at his wrist for a nonexistent watch, then behind him into the kitchen. "Her shift started a few minutes ago so she should..."

But she wasn't listening anymore. Her shoulders slumped and all at once she felt the weight of her situation as it was. She had no where to go. Her father didn't want her. She couldn't show her face at school. The only people she called her friends were more likely than not to laugh in her face if she revealed her predicament to them. And she once again found herself needing the help of a woman who, from what she could tell, wasn't much better off than Princess herself.

She let out a wail. Less than a handful of people where in the diner, and they all turned to look at her. Her mouth hung open and loud helpless sobs escaped her lips. Fat tears streaked her face, ruining what little make-up was left, and dripped down her cheeks and chin. Her body rocked violently and she did nothing to quiet herself. Nothing to hide her face, her misery. There was no longer a reason to. Finally, her mind had processed the fact that the only life she'd ever known was gone.

The boy behind the counter went wide eyed, disappearing from the window and bursting through the door that went to the kitchen. "Oh, God! Are-Are you okay? Are you hurt or something? Was it me? Oh, God, oh God..." He fluttered around her, flailing and sputtering nonsense. Princess shook her head wildly, making the hat fall off and her lesser-red hair splay out erratically. He picked up the hat, then looked like he didn't know what to do with it. "Uh, uh, y-you want Krystal, right? She'll be here! D-Don't cry! She's coming!"

As if on cue, Krystal pushed open the door just as a man rushed out passed her. "Say it and I swear I'll-" she stopped, spotting Princess sobbing into her arms on the counter. "...the hell? What's going on here?"

The guy looked up, his face collapsing into a look of relief. "Thank _God_! S-She came in-she asked for you! I-I told her you weren't here, right? 'Cause you weren't, then she just started crying and...Oh God, Krystal, do something!"

The last few customers shuffled out quickly, as Krystal approached the counter, waving the guy away. He retreated back to the kitchen while she faced Princess. "Hey, you mind telling my what the hell's wrong with you? You just scared away all our customers."

Princess could barely hear her over the sound of her own crying. She could barely breathe through her nose anymore. Her breath came out in big, painful gasps racked with tears. She was crying harder than she ever had in her life. And people were _watching_.

Krystal gave an impatient little grunt and shook her shoulder. "Hey! I'm talking to you. You wanted me, right? Well, I'm here. What's wrong?"

Princess whipped her head up, staring hard at Krystal, who looked blurry though her tears. She snatched her sunglasses off and threw them against the wall. "What's _wrong?_" Her voice cracked. "Look at me! Look at me! I'm _nothing_!" Her face shifted from anger to despair rapidly. "I'm nothing! I've got nothing! Nothing! NothingNothingNothing!" She shook her arms wildly, yelling until she was no longer coherent.

Krystal stared as if she were a feral animal bound to attack at any moment. She glanced towards the window, where the guy was staring from the kitchen. He sent her a wild desperate look, and she turned away, back to Princess. "Uh, maybe this isn't the best place for this..." She reached for her arm, but Princess moved away, burying her face into her hands. "C'mon, we can talk about this upstairs just...come on up." She grabbed her arm again, forcing her up. "C'mon..." She pushed Princess in front of her, towards the stairs. She looked back towards the guy in the kitchen, locking eyes with him, she pointed at the pink duffel bag on the floor and said, "Bring that up later."

Three days passed.

Three days of Princess doing nothing but lying on Krystal's couch and staring at the TV (whether or not it was on) until she eventually fell asleep. She cried constantly, barely aware of anything that was going on around her. And two people were, in fact, trying to live their lives around her. Krystal did all she could to keep Bryan away. She had tried, to no avail, to get Princess to give her more information, but eventually gave up and only spoke to her to tell her to eat or change.

In three days she became horribly aware that her life had reached what was probably the biggest obstacle she'd ever have to face. And several things that had been trying to push through to her mind were suddenly glaringly clear:

Her father had disowned her. He had shunned her in favor of some woman he'd picked up off the street. This meant he didn't want her. And that no matter how many times she told herself this, he wasn't going to fix everything.

She didn't have anything. No home, no money, no car... She was, it pained her to admit, _broke_. And there was nothing she could do about it at this point. Her mind had scraped up the memory of the last day in her house. It felt to her like years had passed, but not even a week had gone by since she'd been kicked out. She'd nearly cried herself dry when she remembered turning down half a million dollars. She'd kill for that money now.

The final thing she knew for certain was that her reputation was shot. And with that gone, what point was there in even leaving the couch?

_None,_ she thought miserably.

The door slammed shut and she became vaguely aware that Krystal had entered the room. The pitter-patter of little feet running into the bedroom meant Bryan was home too. He'd been trained to go straight to the room and avoid Princess for as long as Krystal said was necessary. A few moments later, her view off the blank TV was blocked and she was staring at Krystal's legs. She lifted her gaze slowly, as if just moving her eyes was exhausting.

Krystal stared back levelly. Any sympathy she might've felt for Princess she did her best not to let show, apart from letting her lay comatose on her couch. Her mouth was set in a thin line. She was dressed professionally again, which meant that it was around four-thirty in the afternoon. This was how Princess marked time.

"You're done," she said simply.

Princess stared back blankly. This wasn't one of the two phrases her mind was able to process in her current state. The only things Krystal had said to her lately were, 'Go shower' and 'Come eat'.

"You're done," Krystal repeated. "You can't do this anymore. You are going to hafta get off this couch. Now."

_She's kicking me out!_ Princess's mind and heart started to race as she was grabbed by the arm and pulled into a sitting position. She wanted to plead her case, grab Krystal and beg her to stay, but tears were threatening again. Her throat became too constricted for speech.

"You've been doing nothing but moping and sulking. I'm tired of tip-toeing around you. I get that you're in a fix here, but you're gonna have to pull yourself together. I'm not gonna let you mooch off of me just because you've got it a little tough." But Princess was in no way overreacting. Her situation was very real and very serious. She was homeless. She had every right to be depressed.

"...D-Don't throw me out," Princess rasped. Her voice was raw from all the crying and wheezing.

Krystal frowned. "You need to wash your face."

"Don't throw me out," Princess repeated.

"Go to the bathroom."

Princess remained seated. Krystal sighed and hauled her up again and she didn't resist, although the sudden movement made her dizzy. "Go wash your face. As a matter of fact, take a shower."

"...Don't-"

The blond held up her hand. "Just shut-up and go take a shower. Wash your hair too." Princess stood, looking meek and frail, two things she'd never been before, and looked from Krystal to the bathroom. "Go on. We'll talk when you get out." Then she went into her bedroom, leaving her alone again.

A few seconds passed. Then she moved slowly towards the bathroom.

She didn't recognize herself.

The mirror showed her a stereotypical poor girl from the streets. Her hair was knotty, greasy, and disgusting. Her face was ashen and thinner than ever. Light, tear-stained lines were present on her cheeks. Her eyes were hazel; crying had weakened the chemicals even further until the dye from her eyedrops was completely washed out. She knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but seeing it hit her harder than she expected.

Suddenly she was angry. What had she done to herself? To her _name_? This girl wasn't Princess. This girl couldn't be Princess. Princess was rich and fabulous. Princess was confident and unflappable. A goddess. She was the very best Townsville had to offer, the example set for other girls to follow, the standard most couldn't reach.

_And if I can't be that, I can't be Princess,_ she thought firmly.

With a newfound purpose, she turned on the shower and set to work.

When she came out again, she was an entirely different person. She'd scrubbed her hair until it was nothing more than a normal auburn, much less curly without her usual conditioner. The hot water brought some color to her face, but did nothing to help the sunken look. Her face was scrubbed clean and her now-hazel eyes looked a little less red.

She had regarded her new appearance with immediate disdain. She was _plain_ now.

Krystal gave her a once over, then nodded. "Ok, now try this on." She handed the former heiress a large bulky brown bag. "It's as small as I could find, but you're about the size of a yardstick so it might be a little big in...well, everywhere."

"What is-"

She pulled out a hideously designed piece of gray-blue fabric. Her mouth hung open slightly, frozen in disgust as her mind screamed what her voice wouldn't: _Hell no!_

Krystal might as well have read her mind. "If you don't do it, you can't stay here. Simple as that. It's up to you."

Princess stared at the frumpy garment, holding it by the tips of her fingers. It occurred to her that this was as far as she could possibly fall. She cast Krystal a pleading, desperate look, hoping against hope that there was another way.

Krystal's eyes hardened. "Look. Either you take the job to help pay rent, or you get out of here. You're not staying here for free. I've already got a kid to support." Princess's eyes closed as she reluctantly held the garment against herself. "It's not quite as bad as it looks. It's pretty freakin' bad, but it's not _as_ bad."

It was bad.

Like Krystal predicted, it was big in a lot of places; particularly the chest and waist area where the fabric fell loosely on her figure. It bunched in several places, giving the impression that she was a bit thicker underneath than she was. This only served to emphasize just how skinny her arms, legs, and neck were. And for once, this wasn't exactly desirable.

"_God,_ I look like such a pauper!" she shrieked.

Ever the sympathetic one, Krystal reminded her, "You _are_ a pauper."

She whimpered, hugging her arms tight against her chest to hide herself. Her eyes felt wet again and she blinked furiously.

"That'll do for now," Krystal said. "You can start tomorrow. We'll work on getting you a name-tag, so..." She glanced at Princess, gauging her reaction. For days, Krystal had been trying to get her to reveal what her name was. But mentioning anything about her personal life, family, or where she was from only caused a dramatic explosion of tears she was tired of dealing with. Princess wasn't facing her, but she seemed stable enough. "What do you want it to say?

What _did_ she want it to say? Certainly not Princess. Not anything that would bring attention to who she really was. She needed something plain and easily forgettable to suit her new look, her new life. Something people wouldn't think twice about so that no one would ever have to know exactly how low she had been brought...

"...Anna. It should say Anna."

* * *

**From Chex:** Goodbye Princess, hello Anna! The only problem I see in the near future is the switching of names. I'm pretty sure I'll start calling her 'Anna' next chapter. Or does that feel like it'd be too soon? If anyone has an opinion on it, please let me know. That's the kind of feedback I'm always in need of.


	10. The Job

**From Chex:** I've even gotten behind on this story...I feel so ashamed.

* * *

"I feel like such a **loser**," Princess whined, following closely behind Krystal as they wound their way down the stairs to the diner, both of them wearing the unsightly uniform. She waited for Krystal to contradict her statement, but the older girl said nothing. This didn't do much for her self-esteem at the moment.

After rushing home from what Princess learned was Krystal's other job (which explained why she dressed more professionally), she'd come upstairs to find Princess sitting on the couch, staring in blatant horror at her new uniform. It took a lot of coaxing, a lot of threats, and a bit of creative lying to get Princess into the uniform.

They were now almost twenty minutes late.

"Most people at least _attempt_ to make a decent impression," Krystal muttered. She led her into the kitchen from behind the counter.

_Impression on who?_ Nobody she'd ever concerned herself with impressing would come within twenty miles of this place.

This kitchen, much to her surprise, was all shiny silver chrome and marble. It almost distracted her from the fact that it was cramped and the surfaces all looked sticky and crummy. "This is gross."

"It's not that bad." The goofy-looking boy from yesterday came in behind them. He was wearing orange cargo pants and a Hawaiin shirt that made Princess visibly flinch when she saw it. His blonde hair was still oddly spiked and stood on end like he'd just been shocked. "So what's going on?" he asked, looking from her to Krystal.

"This," Krystal stated, grabbing Princess by both shoulders and shoving her in front of the boy, "is your new kitchen buddy. I believe you two have already met."

"We have?"

"Yesterday."

"I don't..." His eyes widened. He looked at Princess with something akin to fear. "Y-Yesterday...that was...I-I didn't recognize you," he stuttered, barely making eye contact with her. Princess groaned inwardly at the thought of another witness to her insanity. But on the bright side, he didn't recognize her without being told. This new look was working about as well as she'd hoped.

Even if she was _plain_ now.

"Anna here will be washing dishes until she's ready to wait tables. Keep an eye on her, Skippy," Krystal stated, already backing out of the room.

Skippy sent her a fearful look that clearly said: _You're leaving me alone with her?_

"Play nice you two." And then she was gone.

Princess stood rooted in her spot. _Washing dishes? Is that what she said?_

Skippy coughed. "So, um, n-nice to meet you, Anna." He stuck out his hand. She stared blankly, thoroughly against the idea of touching anything in this kitchen. And Skippy technically was something in the kitchen. He retracted his hand quickly and shoved it in his pocket. His ears burned bright red. "Well, um, yeah. S-So, I'm gonna get started, you know, cooking and stuff." He grabbed a long white full-body apron off the door and put it on. "You don't have to do anything right now since, well, obviously there aren't any dishes to wash. So you can do whatever. You probably won't have much to do all day, actually. This place isn't all that busy. So you can just hang out. A-And tell me when you want to go on break or need to use the bathroom or something. Do you know where it is? I can show you where it is."

He babbled on nervously without stopping for about two full minutes, pointing to different things around the kitchen and just making gestures with his hands. Princess stared listlessly. "So, uh, that's about it...You got any questions?"

"Uh, _no_." She said in a _Duh_ tone of voice.

His ears flushed again. "O-Okay." He looked around the kitchen, presumably for something to do. He boiled some water.

Princess looked around, feeling bored and generally useless. _Isn't there something to sit on in here?_ she thought, irritated. She looked at the counter, wrinkling her nose. _No way...My head would hit the cupboard anyway._

"Do you wanna sit down?"

She looked up sharply. "I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

"Oh..." He looked away, dropping a couple of eggs into the boiling pot. Princess stood with her arms crossed over her chest, trying to look more comfortable than she felt. "Well..." He moved away from the stove, behind the refrigerator and out of her view.

_God, just leave me alone already,_ she thought sourly.

Somewhere to her right, a door clicked shut. Skippy came over to her, carrying a thick wooden stool. He set it down next to her. "Here. In case you want to sit later." He went back over to the stove and avoided looking at her.

She stared at the stool. It sat unevenly on the floor; one of the legs was too short. But it was tall enough for her to reach the counter.

So for about half an hour Princess, still standing, watched the diner through the little window in the wall. She watched Krystal wipe off tables, make coffee, check the salt and pepper shakers...It all looked pretty boring and pointless. Especially considering there wasn't anybody there to serve.

Then after what seemed like ages, a man walked in. Krystal looked up from refilling the ketchup bottles. "Hey, Dan. Rough night?"

He grunted in response. His face was rough with five o'clock shadow and his eyes were red-rimmed and weary-looking. He wore a rumpled button-up shirt that looked like it had been slept in overtop of dress pants. Without being told, Krystal fixed up, what Princess assumed, was a cup of the horrendous houseblend and set it in front of him.

The man gulped down the entire thing.

Krystal was ready with the cup to refill it. "I keep tellin' ya, Dan. Cut down. Make the beers last longer and you'd have better mornings."

He grunted again.

"You know you're gonna be late, Dan." She reached behind the counter into the glass display that contained all the desserts. "Muffin for the road?" She set it down in front of him.

He bit into it savagely and slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter, before standing to leave.

"Thanks. Take it easy." She smiled, somewhat plastically, before turning around and fixing Princess with an annoyed look. "Can you _not_ stare at the customers like that? We actually want them to come back."

Princess retreated from the window. _God...this bites._ After getting over her emotional instability (somewhat), she was starting to get irritated with Krystal's bossy attitude. But her fear of getting thrown out kept her in submission.

For now.

About a handful of customers came and went. One or two ordered coffee, but most of them seemed to know better and stuck with the day-old muffins and coffee cakes. Krystal seemed familiar with just about all of them, chatting amicably like they were all old friends.

"You sure didn't treat me like that when I first came here," Anna observed peevishly.

"Yeah, well...when you'd showed up I'd already been on my feet for over 8 hours. I'd met my 'friendly service' quota." She pushed a small basin full of coffee cups and plates through the window. "Get to work on those."

She wrinkled her nose. "Get to work...?"

"Wash them."

"But..." she looked at the coffee stained mugs and sticky plates with complete revulsion, "they're dirty."

Krystal rolled her eyes. "No shit. That's kinda why we're paying you."

She set the basin down next to the sink. Tentatively, she took out what appeared to be the least disgusting mug and placed it in the sink. She reached over and turned one of the faucets. The water burst out, bouncing off the metal inside and splashing over her arms chest. "AH!" She reached over and shut it off again. "Goddamn..." She grimaced, stepping back from the sink. Next to the faucet there was a bottle of dish detergent and a sponge. She grabbed both.

She held the bottle upside-down over the mug in the sink and squeezed. Nothing came out. She squeezed again. "What the...?" She shook it up and down, squeezing it in both hands. "What's with this thing?" she scowled.

"You, uh, have to pull the top up first."

"_What_?"

He coughed, looking away. "Pull the top up..." He mimed the action with his hands.

She narrowed her eyes. Tipping the bottle back over, she looked at the little white mouth. The hole was plugged up. Turning so her back was to Skippy, she pulled it slightly. It moved up with a little 'click'. She tipped it back over the mug and watched a slimy orange liquid ooze out.

"It worked?"

She ignored him. That wasn't a question that needed an answer. She poured the soap all over the mug, watching it drip down the sides. All lot of it went down the drain.

"Um..." he coughed again.

She sighed, exasperated. "I got it. It's coming out."

"Y-Yeah, but..." He looked at his pot at the stove. He placed a lid over it and walked over to her, avoiding eye contact. She was still pouring dish detergent, filling the mug with it. "That...that's a lot..."

"Huh?"

Cautiously, he took the soap from her, placing it on the counter near him where it was out of her reach. "It's just, well, we normally don't use that much soap on each dish." He plugged the sink up, then turned the faucet on, not turning it as much as she did so it didn't splash everywhere. He poured the soap out of the mug and into the sink. The water immediately filled with bubbly foam. "If we did we wouldn't have enough for all the dishes," he explained gently.

"Oh. Yeah I...guess." She folded her arms across her chest and looked away. She felt slightly embarrassed that she couldn't do something as simple as this apparently was. But then she was embarrassed for being embarrassed. Someone like her should be above washing dishes in a low-rate diner.

As the sink filled up he placed the rest of the dishes in. Then he took the sponge and started to scrub them. The water was way too soapy. She stood and watched, waiting for him to step aside at any second and make her get back to work. He cleaned all the mugs and then went on to the plates.

_Why is he doing my work...D-Did I just get fired?_ Her breath caught in her throat. "Uh..."

"You can dry them." Once he was finished scrubbing, he unplugged the sink and turned the water back on. He rinsed off one of the mugs and then handed it too her. Clean or not, she still didn't really want to touch them. But it wasn't as though she had much of a choice. So she grabbed the mug from him and look around for something to dry it with. A small, worn hand-towel was sticking halfway out of a drawer. She yanked it out and got to work.

They worked in silence for a while. Once they were done, Skippy went back to cooking and Anna, finally, sat on the stool, waiting for work to be over. She felt tired and immensely bored. A few moments later, Krystal peeked through the window. She eyed the clean dishes approvingly. "Not bad."

Anna glanced back at Skippy. He looked at her, smiled hesitantly, then averted his eyes. "Um...yeah. So am I done?"

"Done?" Krystal repeated.

"Yeah. Like, can I go back upstairs now?"

Krystal laughed. "Are you _kidding_? We've still got over 3 hours left."

"_What_?"

"Just be lucky it's Sunday. Tomorrow you, Skippy, and Maddie are gonna hold this place down 'til I get off work. Maddie clocks out when I clock in, but you are gonna be down here all day."

Anna stared at her, numb and horrified. "All day? What do you mean _all day_? And who's Maddie?"

"Look, don't stress about it now. We close at one o'clock, so you can chill out then and I'll explain everything. I've already talked to Maddie about you."

The younger girl swallowed nervously, wondering just what it was Krystal had said to this 'Maddie' person about her. "All day..." she mumbled bleakly. "This bites."

Krystal regarded her with bitter amusement. "And this is your easiest day too."

* * *

**From Chex:** I'm not much in a writing mood right now. I don't know what to say in regards to this chapter other than, "It's finally here!" So I'll leave the commentary to you guys. Feedback, if you will.


	11. The Coworkers

**From Chex:** Deeply sorry for the long absence. I have a few..._reservations_ about going forward with my other stories, but I knew an update was needed. So here's #11.

* * *

Anna stood, bleary-eyed, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. After work the previous day, she'd spent a majority of her evening alternating between sleeping, staring at her only remaining worldly possessions, and moping about the current state of her life. She had figured she would soon die from the agony of being both poor _and_ plain-looking if someone didn't come to her rescue pretty soon.

Krystal, for the most part, had ignored her until this morning when she woke her up by kicking her swiftly in the side. The wake-up call hardly compared her fancy French alarm clock/music box at her Dad's, which played soft classical tunes each morning at day break. Now, she hated classical music. (Even if the clock was a birthday present from the Prime Minister of France.) But that morning she yearned for anything the least bit comforting and familiar. Especially since she'd had to get up even earlier than she did for school. (Not that she ever made much of an effort to be on time for that.) Her uniform, if possible, looked even worse than it did yesterday. She'd been weary of using Krystal's make-up, even though she desperately needed it. Her face was pale and there were dark circles around her eyes.

And something that looked disturbingly like a zit stood out on her chin.

"For God's sakes," she grumbled. "I don't even have any lipgloss!" Relenting, she covered her face in Krystal's cheap concealer and foundation.

"Hurry it up in there," Krystal yelled from outside the door. "You are _not_ making me late for work!"

The former-heiress had to work hard to suppress her irritation. She wasn't used to being ordered around, but she was in no position to challenge Krystal. So she exited the bathroom just as Krystal started to bang on the door. Once again, the older girl was dressed conservatively in a black pencil skirt and a melon-colored blouse. Princess briefly wondered why Krystal even bothered working at _Up Joe's_ if she had another job that clearly allowed her to dress like a normal person rather than a fashion-challenged serving girl.

Beside her, the little boy whose name Anna couldn't recall was looking...bouncy. "Hi!"

She jumped slightly. "Um...hi?"

"I'm Bryan! Mommy says you're gonna sleep on the couch every night." He toyed with a piece of hair in front of his eyes, watching her expectantly.

"F-For a little while, yeah." She tried unsuccessfully to maneuver around him; he followed closely on her heels as she headed for the door. Krystal seemed to find Anna's discomfort around kids amusing. "Uh, don't you have to go to, um, where ever it was you went the other day?"

"I go to preschool! My mommy says I'm really smart and I'm gonna get to go to a bigger school next year. _And_ Corey and Sandy and Andrew and Tommy are gonna go with me. They're my friends. Do you wanna go to school with me? Ms. Lane's really nice and we get recess every day, 'cept when it rains. I'll share my lunch with you. Mommy got me cookies!"

Anna stared, her mouth parted slightly. She was at a complete loss for words. She turned to Krystal for direction.

The blonde chuckled slightly. "Sorry, B. Anna's gonna be busy all day working downstairs."

He looked up at her, his wide blue eyes conveying something almost like sympathy. "Mommy says work is no fun. I don't think you're gonna like it."

"But," Krystal interrupted, ushering her son out the door, "she's gonna do it anyway. Now c'mon kids, I already said I don't have all day."

Sulking, Anna followed them both downstairs. She was more reluctant than she'd admit to leave the apartment. Once Krystal was gone, she'd be locked out without a key. It wasn't like she need anything from inside. (After all, what did she have?) But the idea of being trapped in the diner all day made her weary. She'd be forced to work and hang around Skippy and that other person Krystal had mentioned, for hours on end.

Unexpectedly, her stomach growled. After refusing all of the sugary cereals and toaster pastries Krystal had to offer, she had forewent breakfast. What she would've done for one of her fat-free 100% organic strawberry yogurts.

"Good morning, dears," a bright and loud voice greeted them inside the diner. A thick woman with fluffy, graying hair was wiping down the counter. She set down her rag when she spotted them and came to bend down in front of Bryan. "There's my handsome boy!"

Bryan rubbed at his nose, unresponsive. The older woman wiped his hair away from his forehead. "Have you been good? You haven't gotten into any trouble at school, have you?" He shook his head, biting his lip. "Good boy."

"Maddie," Krystal said with a smile, "this is the new girl I told you about. Anna, this is Maddie."

Shifting uneasily on her feet, Anna mutter a quick "hey" and attempted to rush off into the kitchen. But Maddie pulled her into a hug. "Nice to meet you, sugar!" The older woman squeezed tight, then pulled back. Placing both hands on Anna's waist she started to pinch. "Gracious! You're nothin' but skin and bones! When's the last time you ate, honey?"

Mortified, Anna wrenched herself from Maddie's grasp and hurried into the kitchen. The kitchen was empty, but the stool she'd used yesterday was still by the sink. She sat down without hesitation and placed her hands on her knees, trying to get a grip. _These people are so backwards!_ No one had ever commented on _Princess_ being too skinny. _Especially not anyone with rolls like that,_ she thought vehemently. Having made up her mind about Maddie, she resolved not to leave the kitchen and hope to God that the woman didn't come in too often.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the case.

Attempting hospitality, Maddie spent every spare minute relentlessly questioning Anna about her personal life. Brooding looks and hostile frowns didn't seem to ward her off either. "What's her deal?" Anna muttered, wiping furiously at the dishes. "Doesn't she know when to fuck off?"

Beside her, Skippy winced at her word choice. He continued to wash the dishes and she continued to dry them, an unspoken agreement between the two. After his first couple of failed attempts at conversation, he'd learned pretty quickly that it was best only to talk to her when she spoke to him first. "S-She doesn't mean any harm. That's just the way she is."

"Well, she's working my nerves." Maddie wanted to know about everything she didn't want to talk about; her family, school, how she met Krystal, why she was working at _Up Joe's_.

And she was constantly pestering her to eat something.

When it came time for Anna to go on her lunch break, she refused, to spite Maddie more than anything. Not that she would've eaten anything anyway. The only thing she'd even consider eating was the plain white rice from Krystal's Chinese take-out. But that was upstairs and she was downstairs. So lunch was out of the question.

"But dear, you_ have _to eat something," Maddie insisted. "You're going to whither away."

Even Skippy seemed concerned about her dietary habits. "I can make you something, if you don't have anything. Anything on the menu."

It wasn't long before her temper got the better of her. "_Look you cow_," she growled at Maddie, "I'll eat what I want when I want and I don't need you're approval! So why don't you mind your own damn business and leave me alone!" Then she spun on Skippy. "And I'd _starve _before I ate any of the disgusting, calorie-filled, fattening, _crap_ made in this kitchen, so don't you waste your time either!"

Both of her coworkers seemed to have gotten the hint. As Maddie hastily left the kitchen, Anna thought she saw tears in her eyes. Skippy, no doubt in an attempt to get far, far away from her, left the diner on his break. Alone in the kitchen, she didn't think twice about either of them.

Her mind was really on school. Or rather, her friends at school. She couldn't imagine what people must be saying about her. And looking the way she did now, she could never go back and correct the rumors. Princess's reputation was at stake. Even as Anna, she couldn't manage to detach herself from her previous life. Her last appearance at school was much less than the ideal way to disappear from the face of the Earth. One of her oldest mottoes was to always make an exit more fabulous than an entrance. It kept people talking after you were gone.

And while it was too late for 'fabulous', she couldn't help but think that there must be some way she could save face.

Then it came to her. _Duh! Why didn't I think of it sooner?_Her plan was fairly simple, unextravagant, but hopefully it would put to rest any rumors.

All she needed was a computer.

She spent her break staring off into space, thinking about exactly what she would say and to who. She barely noticed when Skippy returned, his ears burning red. He didn't say anything, but he placed a plastic bag on the counter in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked flatly, flicking the bag with unbridled disdain.

"I-I-I-It's a, um, s-salad."

She blinked. Opening the bag, she pulled out a small plastic container full of garden salad. She stared at him.

Tugging on his collar nervously. "Y-You said you didn't want anything, um, in the k-kitchen. So I bought it from the, uh, the Italian place down the street." He shrugged and turned away from her. Putting his apron back on, he returned to his cooking. "It's not fattening or anything, so I, um, I thought you might want it. I asked them to put the dressing on the side."

Anna stared at the container in front of her, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She'd been outright rude to him, made no attempt to hide the fact that she was insulting his cooking, and he...bought her lunch? Narrowing her eyes at him, she tried to make sense of it. Of course, it wasn't unusual for people to be nice to _Princess_, even when she was at her meanest. What choice did they have? But she was Anna now. And Anna didn't have money and riches to offer. Even so, she found herself thinking, _He must want something...but what does he think I have? He doesn't know about my Daddy. And unless he's desperate it can't be me - I'm not even pretty anymore._ She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Nevertheless, she'd keep her guard up.

"Whatever," she muttered. She found a plastic fork, knife, and napkins in the bag as well. Forgoing any dressing, she dug in, keeping an eye on her 'kitchen buddy' as she did so.

* * *

**From Chex:** As you all can see, the old Princess still resides in the new Anna. Rude, careless, ungrateful...I can tell this story is just getting started. Feedback, if you all will. And Happy Holidays!


	12. The Message

**From Chex:** Well, erm, I guess I'm back. Why do I feel so awkward typing now? Maybe I should keep the words to a minimum and just get on with it.

* * *

"_When _is Krystal getting back?" Anna asked for the upteenth time. As morning blended into afternoon, she was feeling ridiculously weary. Her hands were the equivalent of prunes, damp and wrinkled from all the washing she'd been doing. Although when it came to the grosser stuff, she let Skippy handle it.

"She should be here any minute," the blonde boy responded.

"You said that ten minutes ago," she mumbled irritably. After running and re-running the motions of her perfect plan in her head, she was anxious to actually _do_ it. But she needed Krystal's help. Patience wasn't a virtue she possessed, and she soon discovered that working _while_ waiting was the most exhausting activity ever devised. The only thing even keeping her awake was the knowledge that she might soon be able to mend some of the damage done to her reputation.

All afternoon she'd been thinking. When was the last time she'd been in school? It wasn't that long ago. But what was everyone saying about her? Surely someone must've commented on her new habit of disappearing without a trace. And it wouldn't be long before someone went to her father, questioning. He wouldn't out her, would he? _No, _she thought reassuringly, _He can't do that without making himself look like an ogre._ She felt so entirely blind. It had been so long since she'd been inside her social circle she was starting to think that it might be too late for a plan.

_I wonder how many calls I've gotten..._ And she moaned the loss of her cell phone.

A light ringing roused her from her thoughts. She jumped up, sticking her head through the small service window to see who had come in. "Finally!"

Krystal looked up. "Don't look so excited. You're not done for the day."

Anna was already out of the kitchen and following Krystal upstairs by the time the words had left her mouth. "Do you have a computer?"

"A computer?"

She huffed. "No, a computer." Krystal stopped mid-step and sent her a look that reminded her that she was asking for a favor. And not doing a very good job of it. "Um, do you have one? Or know someone who has one?"

"Why?" Krystal asked airily.

"I need...I need to check my email!"

Krystal rose an eyebrow at her. She stood in the doorway of the apartment, as if she were debating whether or not to let Anna in.

Humbling herself unintentionally was one thing. Under stress she was prone to do that. But the former heiress couldn't fathom how to purposely appear humble in the eyes of anyone. Was it the same thing as faking innocence? _That_ she could manage. Attempting to make her eyes bigger, added a little tremble to her voice, and pleaded, "Please...it's really important. If I don't, I'll...I'll..." Her eyes watered as quickly as if she'd turned on a faucet.

Krystal remained unimpressed. "You know, fake crying will get you somewhere with some people. It'll get you no where with others. And with me, it'll only set you back further."

Anna shut off the water works. "I don't know how else to ask!"

"You could attempt to do it like a normal person. A simple, 'Can I please use your computer for yada yada yada' would've done it." She went inside, tossing her coat over the back of the couch. Anna followed her around the living room as she tossed and moved several things around.

"So you _do _have one?"

Krystal didn't respond, instead focusing her attention on pulling several bags out of the freezer, putting them back, and then pulling cans out of the cupboards.

"Hey. Where's, um...your son?" She asked, hurrying to cover her memory blank.

The lack of recognition wasn't lost on the older girl. "_Bryan _is at a friend's house." She set a can of sweet corn on the counter and slammed the cupboard shut. Anna hung back as Krystal wandered into her room. When she didn't come back out, Anna was starting to wonder who else she could ask. The blonde poked her head back out the door. "Do you wanna use it or what?"

The younger girl entered hesitantly. She'd never been into Krystal's room before. Poking her head through the sliding paper door, she tried to maintain a poker face so she wouldn't offend Krystal any more than she already had. But the room was even smaller than she'd imagined. And she'd pretty much jumped to the conclusion that it was crap on day one. A futon was smooshed into the corner underneath a small window with broken white blinds. Along the opposite wall was a door for a closet that was about an eighth of the size of her closet back home.

In the corner, propped up on what appeared to be no more than a block of wood, was a decrepit old hunk of beige metal and plastic, attached to which was a keyboard and a mouse.

"You can_not_ be serious."

"Take it or leave it, princess."

The shriek that followed made Krystal flinch. "_What_?" Large fearful eyes peered at Krystal from a suddenly pale , drawn face. "W-Why did you c-c-call me that?"

"What? Princess? Because you're a whiny, spoiled, lazy, over-aged brat with a complex about her appearance?"

Anna stared directly through Krystal, her mind someplace far away as she clamped her hands over her ears and pressed her elbows against her sides. _Stop it! Just stop it! You'll make her suspicious..._Lowering her arms, she turned her back to the blonde. "Just...don't call me that."

"I was just-"

"_Don't._"

Normally not one to take orders from just anybody, Krystal contemplated making that her new nickname just to tick her off. But she also contemplated the haunted look on the younger girl's face and thought better of it. _She might fall back into her living dead routine..._ "It's gonna take a minute to turn on."

"What?"

"The computer," Krystal said impatiently. "It's slow as snail shit. Hope you weren't plannin' to do anything else with your break."

Anna didn't respond, only going over to position herself, quite awkwardly, in front of the age-old device. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she deliberately ignored Krystal, who hadn't bothered to go into the bathroom to change into her uniform.

Minutes seemed as long as hours while she waited for the home screen to come on. She was beginning to lose feeling in her legs, and her back hurt from slouching over the keyboard. By the time she'd managed to get online Krystal had already went back downstairs. _My break's gonna be over soon...Damn this cheap piece a' shit. _The buzzing sound of the dial-up was grating on her nerves and she was just about to call it quits when the site finally came up. _About time!_

The screen read: **MeetME, Social networking for the socially abound.**

Logging into her account took another torturous length of time, but once the page opened she grinned at the thought of being so close to saving her reputation. Her inbox and guestbook were full of messages. The most of which were from Trisha and Kelly, her most devoted slaves. The earliest ones started from the day she ran out of school:

**xoMissTrishxo: **_**we missed u today P! whered u go?**_

**KeliCandi: **_**u missed jen's latest fashon fo-pa boots n a navy tank? bleh!1!**_

She scrolled down to some more recent ones. Melissa seemed like the only one who dared to ask if something was wrong:

**Melissa3: **_**hey! u didnt jet off 2 europe or something rite? the girls r worried. niss is being all couenslor-y again. and some stuff is going around school. we're squashing it, but u r ok RITE? r u coming back soon? call me!1!**_

She didn't even want to know what Melissa meant by "stuff". Her imagination had conjured up enough bad scenarios. She though about replying to everyone, but she didn't have that kind of time. And it'd be easier to just post a message on her profile for everyone to see. She'd been wording it in her head all afternoon...

**PowerPrincess: **_**hey guys. just fyi-i'm goin to england. i've been packing for days n the jets takin all my stuff over. i'm enrolling in a fancy boarding school. daddy got rid of all my old junk n replaced it so i'd be british-chic! can't wait! love u guys but Lamesvilles dead! :P im so out!xoxoxo**_

She hit Post and sat back to stare at the screen. It wouldn't be long until a stream of insincere 'Are-You-Serious-No-Way-We'll-Miss-You-Friends-Forever-!' messages flooded her inbox. Thinking further ahead, she wondered if anyone would believe her. Gossip was sure to run rampant. A sudden departure to a boarding school in England wouldn't go unnoticed. People would probably think she'd pissed her dad off and got exiled or something. _They wouldn't be too far off,_ she thought glumly.

Anna turned the computer off before she could torture herself by reading any more messages. It wouldn't be wise to keep up communication with her group, even if she was supposed to be halfway across the world. She'd have to keep up a constant stream of lies that she'd undoubtedly get mixed up. No, it was better to leave things as they were with her reputation in as good a shape as she could manage.

_But maybe once in awhile... _She gazed at the computer wistfully. It wasn't that she thought she'd miss her friends. They were as interchangeable and easily replaced as a cell phone or outfit. But she was already missing her old lifestyle. The popularity, the people, the need to feel important...all she had to do was go online and she could have it all back, if only a small taste of it. It would definitely be unwise to remain in communication with her immediate group of friends. But she had over 400 other 'Friends' who had never seen her in person and never would. What could it hurt to talk to _someone_ every now and then?

"_HEY! _Break's over! Get your ass down here or I'm coming up!" Krystal's voice rang loud and a bit shrill from the stairs. Anna got up on stiff legs and hurried as quickly as she could to the door. It wouldn't do her any good to get on Krystal's bad side. Especially since she'd be needing her computer from now on.

* * *

**From Chex: **The greatest gift of all is...feedback. 'Tis the season for giving.


	13. The Party

**From Chex:** Thought I'd get an update in while I have some free time.

* * *

"This is _it_?" Anna gaped openly at her first week's paycheck. She looked again in the empty envelope, turned the check over, and peered at it from ever conceivable angle. "Where's the rest of it?"

"You know," Krystal drawled. "For someone who spent the entire week having someone _else_ do most of her work," she glared pointedly at Skippy, "you complain way too much." Skippy quickly stuffed his paycheck in his pocket. With a sheepish grin, he waved and hurried out the back door of the kitchen. Anna and Krystal watched him go with a roll of their eyes.

Anna crossed her arms petulantly. _I can't believe I did all that work for _this.

Krystal looked amused. "How much did you think you were making?"

"I dunno. A couple thousand at least."

The older girl burst out laughing. Anna jumped at the sudden explosion. Krystal wasn't usually so easily amused. "_That_'s a good one!" She pushed Anna's shoulder lightly, making her cringe away. "God, I almost thought..." Her laughter subsided into hysteric giggles. "I almost thought you were..." She blanked at the look on the younger waitress's face. "...serious."

Anna stared blankly at her.

"You weren't, right? Serious, I mean."

Sensing she'd made some sort of social faux pas, she tugged self-consciously at the collar of her hideous blue and grey uniform and shrugged.

"My God...you've got a really messed up view of reality."

"Whatever." _At least this week is over._ She had spent nearly every free minute of the week on Krystal's computer. 'Becoming a creepy hermit', as her roommate had put it. And despite having to use her cover story, she was kept up to date on what she'd be 'missing'. Which included the when and where of all the hottest parties for the weekends. Of course, she would have to pretend she didn't know anyone there, but would that really stop her from having a good time? _Not if there's booze and hot guys_, she thought with a satisfied smirk.

The minute Krystal opened the door, Anna ran in and locked herself in the bathroom. After a quick shower (to wash off the scent of old newspaper and stale coffee that always clung to her after work), she rifled through her duffle bag for an appropriate outfit. Needless to say, she didn't have much to work with. _I don't believe this!_ Her breath caught in frustration. She could feel another fit coming on when she found a plastic shopping bag underneath all of her clothes. _Oh...this is the stuff I wore the last time I saw..._ She stared at the pile of clothes. They hadn't been washed, but the glittery sequins and clunky gold jewelry called out to her.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the tightest, shortest things she owned, Krystal was watching TV. Bryan sat on the floor in front of her playing with small toy cars.

Krystal looked away from the screen to eye Anna. "Where are _you_ going?" she asked as if she already knew the answer and didn't like it.

"Out," Anna said simply, her voice coming out high-pitched in her effort not to sound snarky.

Krystal gave her a hard look. Without saying anything, she conveyed her thoughts on the matter, a silent warning passing between them.

"Can I go?" Bryan asked suddenly.

"No B," Krystal said with a sigh. "Anna's going to a place that's only for big kids."

"But I'm a big kid! I'm almost six!"

"And its almost you're bedtime." Despite his pouting, he let Krystal pick him up and carry him to his room. Over her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes at Princess. "Twelve thirty."

It wasn't quite an order, but it was definitely more than a suggestion. Princess left, wondering what kind of consequences would await her if she didn't heed the warning. _Whatever. _

At 12:30 Anna was laying on the floor of a bedroom, her legs spread wide, some boy running his hands up her thighs. Her head was spinning. Her hands and wrists were sticky with some dried liquid. Her hair had come down in a tangled mass around her shoulders, the not-quite curls sticking to her shoulders and back with sweat.

She glanced at the boy hovering over her, unconcerned about his presence and what he was doing to her. She couldn't quite recall his name. Something that started with an R. Rick? Roy?

When she first arrived, she'd experienced the unexpected thrill of being the mysterious girl nobody knew. But it quickly wore off. With no one to really talk to, she'd spent most of the party nursing a beer. Or two. Or three. Leaning her head against the wall, the rhythmic thumping of the loud bass music just outside the door made her sleepy. She looked back down at the boy, realizing with faint surprise that he'd already gotten her skirt off. _Randy. That's his name._ She smiled lazily, proud that she'd remembered it. "Raaandy," she said, in a sing-song voice.

He looked up at her briefly, flashing her a grin while hooking a finger in the waistband of her panties.

Her eyelids felt heavy. The room was uncomfortably hot. Sweat dripped down her neck and forehead. "I wanna go somewhere elsh," she slurred. She tried to pull herself up.

"What?" Randy said, irritated.

"I...I wanna go someplacsh elsh," she groaned, trying to reach for the skirt that was down around her ankles. She stood, then bent to pull up the skirt, nearly falling on her head in the process. She got the zipper up, but couldn't manage to button it. "Dammit."

As she reached for the door, Randy grabbed her by the wrist. "I though we were gonna do this." He sounded disappointed and angry all at once.

She snatched her hand back, and threw the door open so that it skimmed right by his face. The loud music practically smacked her in the face. Wobbling slightly, she looked him up and down. "Yeah, well, _you_ aren't as cute as-as I thought you were."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked indignantly. She was already out in the hallway, her eardrums slowly adjusting. Unsure of what she was looking for, she fought to focus on any one thing. A swath of blonde hair came into view like a beacon.

"Trish!" Waving her hand and calling too much attention to herself, she flagged down the blonde. Trisha Coows stared at her, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Anna didn't seem to notice. "Trish," she threw an arm around the blonde's shoulders, making her squeak in protest. "I needa ride..."

"Do I _know_ you?" Trisha asked, squirming away from her touch.

Anna scoffed. "Whatever, bitch."

A guy sidled up beside Trisha. Not the last boyfriend Anna remembered her having. "Whose this?"

"Some drunk loser," Trisha responded, shooting her a look that said _get lost_ as she wound her arms around the guys neck.

Spurned, Anna headed out the door, refusing to risk wounding her ego any more by asking anyone else for a ride. Out on the porch, she was greeted (or not greeted, as the case may be) by the stoners and loners. Among which was, surprisingly enough, Beth Flores. Recognizing her former lackey, Anna went up to her.

Beth looked as she always did, dressed too plain and demure for a party, her hair pulled up in that messy ponytail she never seemed to tire of. She looked up curiously. "Hello?" Before Anna could think of something catty to say, she threw up, then promptly fell on her butt. The group of guys passing a joint around in the corner started to laugh at her. "Oh my gosh!" Beth jumped up, walking gingerly around the puddle of vomit and reaching for Anna. "Are you okay?"

_Do I look okay you dumb...Oh, my head._ The auburned-haired girl just shook her head, heaving dryly.

With a lot of effort on her part, Beth heaved her up. "No offense, but I think someone should take you home. Do you have a ride?" Anna groaned, her arms limp and her head lolling senselessly on her shoulders. "Yes? No?" She managed to shake her head. It hurt. "Ok, well, uh, do you think you could tell me your address or something. I'll take you home." She guided Anna down the steps and towards the cars lining the sidewalk.

"Mmp mohs..." Anna mumbled.

"What?"

"Up Joe's," she said, heaving slightly.

Beth stopped beside her white Nissan Sentra, waiting to see if Anna would puke again before helping her in. "At Joe's? I don't think I know a Joe. Is it near Delaney?"

Anna groaned.

It took nearly an hour for Beth to be able to decipher any of the directions Anna gave her. This was mostly because she had to occasionally pinch and shake her so she wouldn't pass out. When they pulled up in front of the diner, naturally, all the lights were off and the _Closed_ sign was out. "Are you sure you wanted me to take you here? Its closed."

This didn't stop Anna from scrambling out of the car and banging on the front door until Beth thought she would break the glass. "KRYSTAL! LET ME IN! KRYSTAL!" Beth cringed, cowering and begging for her to be quiet. A light came on in the apartment upstairs. A few moments later, Krystal appeared at the door. Her hair was a mess and she wore an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. She looked positively _furious_. "Get your ass in here," she hissed. "_Now._"

"Umm..." Beth stood awkwardly outside while Krystal hauled Anna inside. "So I guess I'll be going."

Krystal glanced at her briefly. "I'd say thanks for bringing her back, but I'm not sure if I'd mean it."

"Uh, right. Well...bye."

As soon as Beth was gone, Krystal laid into her. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Do you not understand what twelve thirty means, or can you just not read a clock? And what the hell were you thinking banging and screaming like you've lost your goddamn mind! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't toss your ass out on the street!" She was yelling in a hushed whisper, her voice low and intense. She was practically shaking with rage.

Anna was too drunk to fear the threat of being thrown out. She responded to Krystal's rage with her own. "You can't control me! You're not my mom!"

"Oh no? And why not? I've been feeding you and putting a roof over your head for over a week now! In what way am I _not_ your mom?"

Anna groaned. "Forget it! Forget _you!_ You're just like my dad! You don't care about me! You hate me! You hate me 'cause I'm not good enough for you! But guess what? I don't care. I don't care if you hate me! I don't care if he hates me! I don't care if Trisha hates me! I don't care if _everyone_ hates me! I don't need anybody! Do you know who I am? Do you KNOW who I AM?" She yelled hoarsely, her throat clogging with tears. Her eyes, already red, were wet and squeezed shut. Her face was was a mess. All running make-up and tears and snot and misery. "I'm...I'm..." She wailed, falling to her knees.

Krystal's face softened. Somewhat reluctantly, she knelt beside her, not touching, but sitting close enough to attempt comfort. "Hey..."

"I'm nobody," she moaned. "I'm nobody. I'm nothing. I don't matter anymore. I'm just Anna. I'm gonna die as stupid Anna Edwards and nobody's even gonna care 'cause nobody'll know who I really am. Nobody knows..."

"Mommy?" A tiny voice called from upstairs.

"Go back upstairs," Krystal said firmly.

"B-But..."

"Upstairs B. Now." She waited until she heard the door click shut. With a tired groan, she got to her feet, pulling Anna along with her. With a grimace, she realized she was getting accustomed to hauling the younger girl around. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed." They trudged upstairs together, Krystal pulling most of the weight. She wasn't surprised to find Bryan, still up, waiting for them. He stood in the middle of the living room looking scared and small in his monster truck pajamas.

"Nobody..." Anna moaned as Krystal tossed her on the couch.

Bryan went over to her, glancing at his mother to see if she would stop him. "What's wrong?" he asked the lifeless lump that was Anna. "You're crying."

She looked at him with wide, sad eyes. Like a lost little girl. She looked broken. "I-I'm nobody..."

He blinked at her. "No. You're Anna. You can't be nobody if you're Anna. Right Mommy?"

Krystal smiled ruefully. "That's right," she said as she pulled a blanket over the girl's huddled form. "You can't be nobody if you're Anna."

* * *

**From Chex:** "Heartbreaking, ain't it?" Or maybe just pathetic. I try to be as objective as possible. Feedback please.


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